


The Living World

by Seruna



Series: Universe: The Living World [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Guild Wars 2: Heart of Thorns, LS1, LS2, M/M, Plot, canon character death, original character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:09:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 77
Words: 442,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seruna/pseuds/Seruna
Summary: Tivon is a ranger awakened with fascination for nature and the very world itself, a sylvari seeking the seclusion and tranquility of his own thoughts. Upon traveling the world he is thrown into all sorts of troubles and has to make due with what he has - and notices that the path ahead is best not traveled alone.





	1. The Night, the Raven and the Hound

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I like challenges. Lamshire (kind of) prompted this, and I felt that I could indeed - and that I should - write a LS1 fanfiction. But behold! This will probably go even beyond LS1, most likely up into LS3. So it will be long. With a capital L and a few o's.  
> I was not quite aware that this project would be quite so difficult and time-consuming, but I simply underestimated the complexity. I am, however, not deterred. This is merely an information for you: It will take time for me to gather all the research. I want the experience to be as best and accurate as can be, but sometimes even the GW2 Wiki is not complete and I will have to improvise.  
> Also I decided to bring a new character into the fold, with one major difference: Tivon awakened in 1326, unlike the Personal Story says. As a matter of fact he awoke in January of that year, and his Wyld Hunt is not to defeat Zhaitan - which is why we will not be getting into that story again. That also enables me to make a cross-over with Sgileas, and he will make a couple appearances in this. (Are you excited? Hehe, I am too.)  
> You might be asking yourself what the Romance is about, but at this point I will not reveal anything yet. Enjoy the plot, read the story, and be washed away upon the revelation once it comes.  
> *Takes deep breath* Here we go. One adventure, coming right up.  
> One last thing: As I have said the research is very time-consuming, so the chapters will not be uploaded quite as fast as I might like. I will try my best though, so bear with me. You can expect a chapter per week. But no promises.

Tivon awakened in the Cycle of Night. It was dark and cold, yet the cold of the night did not manage to make him shiver in its grasp. Instead he burned with a curiosity that warmed him from inside, his feet feeling the earth under his sole and between his toes, the wind brushing over his bark and ferns, a natural light armor covering him.

The sylvari mentor had all but stood agape, hand outstretched toward the young sylvari that could not have been stopped even by their Pale Mother if she had wanted. He had all but breathed his first breath when he had walked past the mentor, had jumped onto a tree and began to climb up its branches, hands clinging and legs moving with agility.

And there he sat atop the trees branches and he glanced down toward all that the Grove – his home – was and marveled at its beauty. He had sat and watched, eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of his brothers and sisters, and only when a dark figure had appeared in the shadows, slowly stalking toward where he was hidden behind branches and leaves did he avert his eyes toward the approaching figure.

It stood beneath the branch and looked up toward where he was. “Come on down, Sapling.”, a stern but somewhat calm voice called.

“Who are you?”, asked Tivon and clutched the branch tighter. He wanted to remain, to watch. He had seen so much in his Dream, to finally see it all so openly and clearly – he could barely take it all in.

“My name is Malomedis.”, the figure said softly. “I am the firstborn sylvari of the Cycle of Night.”

Reluctantly Tivon descended from the branches and when he landed on his feet, right in front of Malomedis, he suddenly felt so much smaller, so much more insignificant under the sylvari's gaze. “I meant no disrespect.”, Tivon mumbled in apology and Malomedis gave a smile, but it was barely the quirk of his lips, his other features remaining set as though from stone.

“Come.”, Malomedis said, a mixture of an order and an offer, but Tivon would not have dared to disobey. “I humbly welcome you, Sapling.”, the firstborn continued, the stride sure and secure and graceful.

“Thank you.”, Tivon bowed his head in a gesture of gratitude as they walked. “I am truly sorry that I ran off, but-”

“Keep your voice down.”, Malomedis ordered and Tivon closed his mouth and nodded. He was not sure where Malomedis was leading him, but he realized they were slowly moving away from any other sylvari, toward a small, dark terrace and in the far distance Tivon could see the darkness of the sea, black against the dark blue of the horizon.

Malomedis finally stood still at the very edge of the cliff, a small railing woven from ferns and vines the only security that kept one from falling. He turned his head toward Tivon and the younger sylvari saw the firstborn's eyes sparkle from their luminescent glow.

“Watch. What do you see?” Malomedis gestured with his head toward the sea and Tivon turned his head, stared out toward the water, eyes trailing carefully over the railing, down below where stone met water and where waves gushed against the cliff. The sound was soft, rhythmic, soothing, and Tivon was entranced by the natural beauty of it, his eyes wandering over the water that reached so far and wide, saw small lights reflecting on the surface.

He craned his neck and could see the stars sparkle in the night sky, glimmers of white and yellow against a sheet of blackness. They twinkled in the darkness and the longer he stared, the smaller he felt, the bigger the world seemed to become.

Patterns began to form in front of his eyes, stars connecting and entwining into forms and designs. They were so large, and yet he knew how far away they were, and as time passed by he felt insignificant and tiny in comparison to the world and the cosmos that so blatantly revealed itself in front of him that there was no use in denying it.

“We are a part of this world.”, Tivon breathed in answer, eyes transfixed on a distant point in the sky. “We are small parts to something greater. The small gears in a clock, the pieces of a puzzle.”

Malomedis beside him nodded thoughtfully. “And yet our lives envelop and prepossess us. We sometimes forget the world around us – for the sake of the small world that we experience.” Tivon turned his head toward Malomedis. “Never be satisfied with the simplicity of your life – dare to see its greatness and complexity.”

“If I keep watching the distance, how do I cross it?”

“Keep your eye on your destination. So long as there is something worth striving for, your life will be full of wonder and adventure and naturally guide you.”

“And why do I feel small when I watch the stars?”, Tivon asked.

“Because you only see the distance, but not the path. Because you see the struggle and not the destination. Whatever is worth striving for must consume all your capabilities in order to achieve it. Harder ground makes stronger roots. Be hardened, and never fear the path ahead. Savor the moment of achievement and victory.”

“You speak of a Wyld Hunt.”, Tivon noticed. “ _My_ Wyld Hunt.”

“Call it what you will.”, Malomedis responded. “Your purpose is what gives your life meaning and worth – and to strive for it is your duty, and its climax the fulfillment you seek.”

“And what of my dream?”

“What have you seen?”, Malomedis asked curiously, but his eyes were watching carefully with scrutinizing intensity.

“I saw a white raven and a sylvari hound running over fields of green and they twisted into planes of nightmare and darkness. When the hound touched the ground it shattered into a million pieces like glass and disappeared.”

“And the raven?”

“I could no longer see it.”

“What did you feel?”, Malomedis inquired.

“I felt helpless.”, Tivon confessed. “I wanted to help – but I could not. But that is not all.”

“What else did you see?”

“I saw a floating ship with beautiful brown sails and crystal wings, and it was illuminated in a golden glow. A dark jungle loomed beneath and I felt a presence, watching, waiting, lurking.” Tivon shivered. “I felt watched.”

“It means that the road you travel will not be lonely.”, Malomedis smiled. “Is there another calling in your heart?”

Tivon slowly nodded. “I want to explore and experience adventure, to marvel at the beauty of nature. To appreciate all its forms and designs unbiased. To observe. See. Marvel.”

Malomedis nodded. “I can already see your life will be filled to the brim with excitement. Perhaps if you are a mindful watcher as you say, you should strike those that oppose you with a keen eye from a distance.” Tivon did not like the thought of killing – anyone or anything – at all, but he knew it was the way the world worked, a sacrifice he would have to make. “The path ahead of you is dangerous and complex, Valiant. But perhaps in time, you will have stronger roots than any of us.”

Tivon stared out toward the line where sky met sea. “I hope so.”, he murmured and they both remained quiet until the first rays of sunlight illuminated the sky and painted it red and announced the arrival of a new dawn.

  


  


“It's cold!”, Tivon hissed and rubbed his arms, the armor covering his bark normally a sufficient cover against all weather – yet here in Hoelbrak he found that even the thickest of cloaks could not keep the cold at bay.

His bare feet sunk into the snow and tingled and burned almost painfully, and he was glad for every fire along the way. There were various norn that threw him curious glances as he lifted one foot at a time to bring it closer to the flame and warm his feet.

“Ho, traveler.”, a norn greeted him just as he lifted his other foot and he set it down again onto the wooden platform.

“Hello.”, Tivon greeted curtly.

The norn chuckled when he looked down at his feet. “There's an armorer that can fix you a splendid pair of boots just down the ramp.”

“Thank you.”, was all Tivon said and was glad when the norn was finally minding his own business again. It was not like Tivon disliked the company of others, but strangers had a mysterious quality that would only manage to distract him now.

And either way he was determined to walk the earth with his bare feet, be it over stone or snow. No cold nor heat would keep him from this.

The reason he was in Hoelbrak was to search for the white raven. Malomedis had told him that ravens were quite common in the northern lands – and had somehow forgotten to mention how cold it was.

His obvious first destination was the Raven's lodge, ignoring all curious stares that were thrown toward him as he went. The path turned into a slope and when he finally entered the lodge warmth flooded his limps and he breathed a sigh of relief, wriggled his toes against the warmth of the wood beneath his feet.

The lodge was spacious, large, and somewhat austere. A hearth showered the lodge with light and filled it with warmth, and his eyes traced over the walls, the pillars, the ground, drank everything eagerly with such focus that he barely heard the shaman approach.

A female norn, so much larger and broader than himself, her eyes darkened with a thick line of coal, her lips colored blood red. “Raven informed me you were coming, sylvari.”

“I am not familiar with the Raven.”, Tivon said carefully as not to offend her faith and belief.

“Raven has told me of what you seek, and you must head to the Wayfarer's Foothills to find it.”

“Why would Raven help me?”, Tivon asked with a frown and the Shaman gave him a knowing smile.

“Raven is a spirit that represents wisdom, cunning and trickery. Your spirit must be like-minded.”

“Thank you.”, Tivon bowed his head. “I will heed Raven's advice.”

“Seek the Raven's nest. All will reveal itself.”

Tivon nodded and slowly made his way back, gave only one short glance back toward the Lodge before he shook his head with a smile. It would appear that more forces were at work than he had at first thought – and that the world was indeed larger than the simply sum of its parts.

  


The Raven's nest was well protected by Raven Shamans – so much so that Tivon barely allowed himself to step close and only watched from afar for hours. The Shamans protected the eggs valiantly against oncoming attackers, mostly animals that smelled them from afar, sneaking up from the cliffs and over the slope, but they were beaten back efficiently.

It was almost daybreak when Tivon finally rose, his body aching from being still for so long. His bow atop his back was strung tightly over his shoulders and he stretched before he headed toward the Raven Shaman who had already seen him watching and waiting.

“Raven spoke of your coming.”, the Shaman greeted him, and Tivon was sure now that something about these spirit animals must be true after all.

“I am Tivon.”, he greeted. “In my Dream I had a vision of a white raven.”

The Shaman cast a look at his bow and then back at his eyes. “You are a ranger.”, the norn noted, the voice level and unbiased. “What have you to offer to the Raven in return?”

Tivon blinked at that. “I have nothing but myself.”, he answered, and the smile the Shaman smiled made him uncomfortable.

“Prove your cunning to Raven. Solve the Riddles.”

“What riddles?”

“You will see.”, the Shaman gestured up toward the slope, the path worn and well traveled, and at the very top, settled into the stone, lay nests filled with branches and feathers in which the eggs lay. He felt he was treading on sacred ground and could almost feel the eerie energy vibrating through the earth against the soles of his feet.

As he tread up the path carefully he took in the formation of rocks, counted the many nests that he could see until he suddenly felt as though he was being watched and turned his head toward a statue of a raven that stood at the side, eyes made from rock looking almost through him.

His eyes were transfixed and without ordering them to his legs moved closer and along the breeze of the wind he could hear it, soft and faint,

“ _I move without legs. I push without arms. I speak without words. I howl without a mouth. What am I?”_

“You are wind.”, Tivon answered and a brush of air caressed his bark in approval.

“ _From pain and a scream, I bring newness into the world. From me, all legends begin. Reveal my name.”_

“You are birth.”

“ _Using me, battles are never fought alone. With me, bonds are never broken. Reveal my identity.”_

“You are loyalty.”

He only felt it. Approval. A warm smile that was not his own. The norn Shaman's steps were almost deafeningly loud on the ground and he could feel the vibrations beneath his feet at the norn's approach. “Raven deems you worthy.”, the Shaman informed him. “Follow me.”

Tivon did, up and higher toward the peak of the slope where all the eggs were. It was a strange feeling to walk this ground, feeling like he was being watched and his every move judged. The Shaman led him toward a nest that was filled with eggs, fragile and vulnerable, and the Shaman smiled down at them warmly.

“Raven smiles upon you. Choose your companion wisely.”

Tivon did not know what to say. It felt like a privilege to stand here alone, and to pick one from all these eggs was simply something he could not do – how was he to trust his decision?

 _Trust you instincts_.

And what if his instincts told him not to take an egg? He glanced up at the Shaman, trusted the feeling in his gut and bowed his head. “I am honored by this gesture, but I am unworthy of Raven's gift.”, he declined.

There was a crow up above him and he lifted his eyes, saw that atop the stones sat a single, dark raven that looked down at him with dark, glittering and intelligent eyes. It tilted its head curiously before it crowed once more, spread its wings and then flew over their heads toward a small passage in the stone.

“Follow it.”, the Shaman instructed.

Tivon's heart was beating high in his chest when he followed the Rave, the crevice barely broad enough for him to squeeze through. He heard the Raven over his head crowing impatiently and he sought purchase with his hands, began to climb the sharp and steep side of the rock.

With heaving breaths he pulled himself upward until finally no more stone surrounded him, was only beneath his feet, and at the very top sat the Raven in a nest filled with a single, bright egg. Tivon moved forward carefully and in reverie, eyes trained on the egg before him.

The Raven cowed, a little softer now and turned its eyes toward the egg. Tivon knelt onto the ground, stared at the egg that lay but half a meter away from him and as he watched he heard it, ever so faintly until it grew louder. Cracking. The egg moved, swinging from side to side, cracks rippled and fractured the surface until a small beak emerged and he saw the baby raven, white as snow, sparkling, dark eyes that met his own.

“Vail.”, he whispered, knew the name for the Raven even before he had given it a thought. It was right there, in his head, and the Raven tilted its head curiously, blinked up at him with its dark eyes.

“ _Take this gift,”,_ the Raven's voice echoed and Tivon lifted his eyes to look at the black Raven that looked at him with an intense stare. _“Take this gift, Watcher of the World. See the world through the Raven's eyes, and travel with the Spirits at your side.”_

Whatever he had done to deserve this Tivon did not know. He bowed his head in reverie and respect. “I will, Raven.”, he vowed, and felt the Raven smile upon him.

  


  


The Raven grew stronger with each day, and surely after just a few days it had taken flight, and after a few weeks it had grown large enough that Vail no longer fit in the palm of his hand and the Raven frefused to remain inside the small comfortable pouch that Tivon had woven and worn just for him.

Instead the Raven either flew over his head, his eyes far up in the sky, or rested atop his shoulders, eyeing everyone around them suspiciously.

Tivon was traveling through different parts of the world. At first he had explored more of the northern Norn lands and the cold desolation it posed, had hardened his body to such an extent that the cold did not bother him at all.

After that he had gone back to the Grove, his home, and had shown Malomedis his new companion. They had spoken once more about his vision – and had decided that it was Tivon's duty now to search for the sylvari hound he had seen in his vision.

Thankfully there were a few places he could go, places inside Caledon forest where they kept, raised and trained them. Vail atop his shoulder was moving nervously, claws digging into his shoulder as they approached.

“What's wrong my friend?”, Tivon smiled up at the raven. “Is your beak itchy again?”

The raven cowed in response and Tivon chuckled. He understood the raven somehow, even if nobody else could. It was truly a strange sight to behold, a sylvari in medium, self-grown armor, bare-footed and a raven atop his shoulder, talking with the animal as though it was a traveling companion.

But the Dream had shown Tivon that it was much more. Not just a companion, but a friend, and the connection was deeper than anything else he had.

“Greetings Valiant.”, a sylvari greeted him that was playing with one of the sylvari hounds. “How may I help you?”

“I am in search of a sylvari hound from my Dream.”, Tivon answered and the sylvari rose to his feet, ceasing to rub the belly of the pup that gave a whine in response.

“What did it look like?”, the sylvari asked. “Do you recognize it anywhere here?”

Tivon shook his head, had already looked around, but none of these hounds looked like the one he had seen. “No.”, he answered. “It was not a pup, that is all I know.”

The sylvari frowned thoughtfully. “As soon as the pups grow the Wardens take them in for training. I am afraid I can not help you.”

“Thank you.”, Tivon said anyways and continued his journey. Vail made an impatient noise and when Tivon gave the raven a curious glance the animal took off into the sky, slapping him over the head with its wing. “Hey!”, he grumbled and rubbed his head, watching as the raven flew higher into the sky ahead.

Vail took the lead, gliding further ahead in the sky and Tivon followed through glades, waded through water that was soothing and cool against his lower leg, the sand from the shore rubbing in between his toes. They went further and further north until Tivon recognized the large tree that spiraled high into the sky, large leafs offering leverage to climb atop.

But Vail did not halt. He flew further ahead and came lower, circled and then when Tivon had finally caught up landed on his shoulder once more. “Impatient one.”, Tivon jested and the raven only gave him a curious glance.

There was a strange sound and it made Tivon tense, his eyes set toward the formation of rocks ahead. It was dark in between, one could squeeze through the crevices, but Tivon knew that the Nightmare Court lingered here and that he should not.

The sound came again and Tivon realized it was the sound water splashing. With his heart spiking he quickly pulled his bow from his shoulder and Vail took flight with a soft flap of his wings. Tivon knocked in an arrow and crouched low, his feet moving only slowly through the ankle-height water, barely making a sound.

The shadow of the rocks engulfed him, grasping him like a cold shadow and he heard the pounding of his heart loud in his ears as he anxiously probed forward, step for step, and then he heard the splash of water, feet trotting forward, but those were no normal feet. The rhythm was different.

He peeked around the corner and barely saw a sylvari hound that was limping through the water before it succumbed and fell down with a splash. Tivon recognized it immediately and jolted into action, his eyes quickly taking in his surroundings before he moved toward the sylvari hound that breathed with a whine.

Tivon glanced around anxiously, throat tight and knelt beside the hound, brought a hand through the fern that was its pelt. The hound twitched and turned its head with a quick movement, dark eyes glaring up at Tivon and sharp teeth baring from a strong jaw. It's eyes were wide, terrified, and in it's instinct to survive it growled at him.

“Shh.”, Tivon made. He could see the wounds upon the hounds body and his stomach twisted. He knew that the Nightmare Court tortured and abused the hounds in order to have pets for the malicious and evil ways. “I can help you.”

Tivon drew the belt pouch that rested on his back on his belt forward toward his stomach and drew forward a cloth and salve, as well as a bandage. He dipped the cloth into the surrounding water and glanced at Vail. “Look out for the nightmare Court.”, he ordered. “I would rather not get boxed in.”

Vail flapped his wings and landed close to the sylvari hound, pecked at him with his beak into the hound's stomach. The hound growled and snapped its jaw loudly, and Tivon barely managed to break the two apart. “Hey, hey!”, he urged in a hushed voice and kept Vail at bay with a gesture of his hand. “Easy Vail. He's injured.”

Vail turned his head and took to the air, crowing in disapproval from above. Tivon shook his head and as he tended to the sylvari hounds' wounds he murmured, “Sorry for my companion. He is a rather jealous type.”

The hound's breathing was rapid and the dark eyes were set on him intently as though the hound could not believe it was being saved – and Tivon smiled reassuringly. “I'll patch you up good as new. You'll run over fields and hills again.”

The hound seemed to understand, and even though it's eyes softened it continued watching. Tivon lifted it from the water when he bound the bandage around its body and then cast a glance up for Vail. Since the Raven had given him no sign of any enemies Tivon felt safe and adjusted his belt pouch, his bow and put the arrow back into the quiver before he lifted the hound into his arms, heaving it up.

It was heavy, which came as no surprise considering its size. Tivon carried it with care and with a whistle signaled Vail that he was done. The sylvari hound whimpered in pain in his arms and Tivon caressed its ferns with tender strokes.

“It will be fine.”, Tivon whispered. “It will be fine.”

  


When they got back to an encampment he took care of the hound until all wounds were healed – which was in a matter of three weeks. It must have run away from the Nightmare Court, possibly even fought with the others hounds to escape. When Tivon pulled the bandage away one last time to look at the wound he smiled at the hound.

“Told you.”, Tivon grinned. The hound sat on its hind legs and gave him an incredulous stare and made no motion of moving. “You are healed.”, Tivon smiled warmly and poked the ferns where the wounds had been. The hound sprung to its feet and began to dash around, from one end to the other, and Tivon could feel the glee from here.

When the hound came back toward him, tail wagging, he could not help but wonder if he could possibly force the animal to stay with him. It was a free spirit, so defiant in fact that it had broken free from one pair of shackles already.

With a sad smile Tivon caressed the hounds head, “You are free now.”, he murmured. The hound looked like it did not understand as he rose to his feet and when he turned it barked at him, made him look back.

The animals eyes were intelligent. Not merely intelligent, but they could speak entirely on their own and Tivon thought he imagined it, but a voice in his head said, _“Let me stay.”_

“You want to stay?”, Tivon asked and could not hide his smile. The hounds' tail began to swish from one side to the other and it jumped around Tivon, and the reaction elicited laughter from the young Ranger. “Alright, alright!”, he called when the Hound would not calm down and knelt before the hound, grasped its jaw gently. The hounds head jerked for barely a second before it relaxed. “Derry.”, Tivon said after a few seconds. “I'll call you Derry.”

The hound glanced up at him with wide, beautiful eyes and Tivon ruffled the ferns atop Derry's head. He could not help the broad smile that nearly tore at the corners of his mouth.

 


	2. The Lost Shores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla! Not much to say other than: I am HYPED! Thank you guys for all your encouragement and you patience - it's been a great motivating factor for me.  
> Thank you so much - and enjoy!

Tivon remained in the Gendarran fields. Not necessarily because he liked it there – he liked the wild and unbound nature in the Grove and Caledon forest much more – but because Lion's Arch was  _packed_ . With people. And Tivon liked quiet and spacious places  _without_ crowds. 

When Halloween was finally over and the masses dispersed Tivon dared to return to the city. There were a few spots he had found out he liked, spots that lead up toward cliffs, or atop rooftops and onto lamp-posts where he could watch over the streets at night and look upon the stars and their constellation.

His two companions were always at his side. Vail with ease, soaring through the air, and Derry with a little more difficulty. Climbing steep places was not for the hound and Tivon had soon discovered that he would either need to train Derry in terms of patience, or to find a way to carry the hound. At night they slept in dark corners, Derry curled against his side and Vail rested atop his shoulder whilst he leaned against the wall. During the day Derry would sometimes rush off into an alley and not return for hours – but in the end he always did with a broad smile.

Tivon did not mind. He understood the desire to be alone, at least sometimes. It felt as though being with other people sapped his energy, whilst he could only ever truly recharge his depleted storage if he was alone, thoughts drifting far away from people and their problems.

It was a peaceful few days until strange ships began to arrive in the harbor and rumors about a new island began to course around the city, and the company “Consortium” was a name that traveled well and far around.

What Tivon worried however was the fact that something else was happening. As he walked the shores of Lion's Arch he saw the whales beached on the shores, helpless and driven from the water. Various other people of Lion's Arch were trying to help these poor animals to survive by throwing buckets of water over them, but their fates were sealed with a permanent end.

He was investigating one of the whale's bodies when a voice behind him yelled, “Hey! What do you think you are doing?”

He turned his head and saw a woman in Lionguard armor, her hair short and brown, her dark eyes glaring down at him. Beside her were even more Lionguard, six to be exact, and a small female asura that looked at him with a confused frown. There was only a moment where he held the gaze before he turned his back to them again and continued to investigate as though he had not heard.

“Hey!”, the woman seemed clearly upset now that he was ignoring her and he heard her marching over the sand, could feel the vibrations through the ground. There was a moment where he tried to focus once more, but with her heavy boots it was hard to do so. He knew exactly how long her stride was, and exactly when he had to get up in order to meet with her eye to eye as soon as she was behind him.

When he rose to his feet and turned gracefully to face her she looked surprised and her hand rose and twitched, a small movement Tivon guessed was supposed to be a grab for her weapon. In her dumbfounded state she was briefly at a shortage for words, and Tivon took the lead. “These whales were pushed from the waters. Why?”, he asked, not demanding, but in a pondering tone. She was of the Lionguard after all, so she must know.

“That is-, she stuttered and was intrrupted,

“-Exactly what I have been saying!”, the asura cut in, jumped from the pier and marched toward them over the sand. Her feet made a different sound – and had a different stride, Tivon noticed. It took the asura considerably longer to close the distance, even though she seemed to gain energy from the annoyance that was apparent in her features. “I have been telling you that something is coming right at us from the waters. The whales have no where to go but here – they are fleeing!”

“From what?”, Tivon asked the asura and she seemed pleased and grateful that _someone_ was listening to her. 

“I do not know, but me and my krewe have been investigating and I am telling _you_ ,” she pointed toward the lionguard woman, “that something big is coming right this way!”

The lionguard woman groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You heard Captain Magnus.”, the woman argued feebly. “So long as Lion's Arch is not attacked or the trade affected we will not get involved.” Tivon could hear the clenching of teeth from the asura from where he stood and realized this was an argument these two did not have for the first time.

“Whales circle these waters – they wander from place to place, and in this time of year it is not uncommon that they are this close to the shore, but to push them from their path and onto the shores something's got to be up.”, Tivon murmured, more to himself than anyone else and his eyes wandered back toward the shore and the waters with a contemplative gaze.

“That's what I have been saying!”, the asura cried out again.

“I will ask you one last time before I arrest you.”, the Lionguard woman ignored the asura and looked sternly at Tivon and he turned his face to look at her. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Tivon scratched the head of Derry to pacify the hound. He considered his options briefly and decided it was best not to antagonize the authorities. “My name is Tivon.”, he introduced himself with a charming smile. He knew very well why this woman wanted, no, _demanded_ to know his name.

_The rush of the chase, adrenaline pumping in his veins, feet slapping over stone and rooftops to escape from people in shining golden armor in the dead of night with a mirthful smile quirking at his lips as he jumped and they disappeared from sight, Vail crowing happily atop his head._

“And I was, just as you, curious about the whales.”

“Well, _Tivon_.”, the woman said sharply, clearly still annoyed, “There are various accounts of Lionguard that you have been-”

Whatever her accusations were – and Tivon would have been hard-pressed to negate them, because they would have been true – they were interrupted when a wave of water swapped from the shore toward their feet in a sudden rush. Tivon let the water gush around his ankles while the others jumped back in surprise and he searched with his eyes over the surface of the water.

In the distance he could see the water moving, bubbles forming over the surface, coming from deep within. “It's coming.”, Tivon mumbled and broke into a run. “To me!”, he called and his two companions followed close on his heel, whereas the Lionguard woman stood and stared after him before she called once more,

“Hey!”. Her heavy boots thrummed on the ground and she dashed after him with her squad of Lionguard. Tivon was, of course, quite well trained and fast – they had no chance to catch up to him, but he was not even running away from them.

His eyes were trained on the bridge and the other side where a large light-tower stood against a rock that loomed high into the air, and just as he was crossing the bridge a large splash resounded from the pale marble walls and he heard a cry like he had never before – a loud screech and wail in one that threatened to tear his ears apart. With his heart pounding he watched as a creature not only emerged but _leaped_ from the water high into the air, flew up in an arc and landed against the tower, breaking it apart as it landed with a massive crash.

The rocks and metal cascaded down the cliff into the water with a loud splash and Tivon noticed that it looked like something similar to a crab, but it had four legs, each one larger than a normal sized building and a large body covered in what looked like sea shells. The main body was hung in between the four legs and it looked like it had only one large, round mouth like a worm with sharp teeth, and a pair of pincers hanging from its main body.

“Vail, up!”, Tivon ordered. He was not sure how much damage any of them could do considering how thick its shell looked, but he had no time to second-guess his decision when the creature began to trash everything in its proximity, every step a loud thump with a loud vibration that made the earth beneath Tivon's feet shudder. “Derry, be careful.”, Tivon murmured. “Don't get too close. Try to distract it.”

Derry charged forward without waiting even a second longer and Tivon knocked in an arrow and heard the Lionguard finally catch up with him now that he was slowing his pace to prepare his weapon.

“What is that thing?”, the Lionguard woman breathed, apparently – and finally – having forgotten to question Tivon's habitation of Lion's Arch.

Tivon knelt down toward the ground, brought a vial from his belt pouch and began to hastily coat his arrows with poison. The creature looked like it could definitely take a few hits without being affected considering just how large it was. He watched the thick liquid drip into the steel tips, turned the shaft of the arrow between his fingers diligently and nimbly.

For some reason the woman and asura, as well as the Lionguard squad, still stood in fear, shock and perturbation and he grew a little restless knowing that his two companions were already engaged in a fight they would not win alone, and frustration gnawed at him that the woman was still beside him.

“They look like Karka. I have heard of them before.”, the asura breathed.

Tivon rose to his feet, holding three coated arrows. He could not bear to take any more time – his would have to be enough. “Take it down before it tears the island apart!”, Tivon urged the female woman and she looked surprised at his blunt tone, but did not seem to take offense at his orderly fashion.

“Get into position. Let's take it down.”, she ordered toward her squad and Tivon saw that various other Lionguard were joining in, rushing toward them from over the bridge. He quickly put away the vile of poison and put it back, knocked the first arrow into the bow and searched with his eyes for a high vintage point.

When he caught sight of a cliff he dashed toward it and began to climb it, teeth clamped around the bow and arrow. He heard Vail crow, saw a flash of white in the sky and saw the ferns of Derry flicker among the high grass of the slope. The creature was the strangest thing he had ever seen. Behind it, attached to its posterior was a sort of pouch that he saw only now that the creature made a strange crouching motion, and from the pouch spurted liquid and small crabs-like creatures that rolled onto the ground, caught their footing and began to attack the lionguard that approached. 

The small creatures climbed atop their bodies, clung onto heads and arms and legs, immobilizing and blinding the unsuspecting lionguard. Tivon had to tear his eyes away and steadied himself with a deep breath, felt the wind in the ferns atop his head, waited for the breeze to pass before he let the first arrow fly with a wheeze.

It hit the mark: The large creatures skin, just between the soft flesh underneath the shell where its mouth was. The creature stepped back, interrupted in whatever the process of producing the small crabs was called. A loud, pained screech echoed over the area and Tivon knocked in the next arrow, saw that the creature was searching for where he was, even though he could not tell how the creature  _saw_ at all. He could see no sign of eyes and pulled the string of the bow when the creature stomped over the ground toward him, ignoring everything else but him.

The four large legs moved one after another, thrummed into the ground and Vail crowed in dismay, Derry could only lift his head as the creature passed by over him with a continuous, angry and wailing shriek.

A steady breath left Tivon when he pulled the string taunt against him and with a flick of his finger he released the string. The arrow flew through the air with a swish and hit once more perfectly, landing deeply in the creatures unprotected flesh with a squishy sound.

Despite his hit it did not break its sprint and was only a few more meters away, and Tivon realized that its intention was to make him tumble from the cliff by charging into it. He quickly brought the bow over his back, the string slapping across his chest, held the arrows in his quiver and just as the creature crashed into the cliff he jumped forward. He saw the creatures legs, felt propelled from the force that had catapulted him beneath his feet, the creature was right beneath him and it rose to meet him and with a huff he landed on the covered part of the creatures body, his knees buckling just slightly.

His feet felt the sharp texture of the shell that was its armor and the legs were attached right beside him, four strings that seemed thin enough so he could cut them and with a turn of his body he pulled his sword from its scabbard, slashed around him once in a graceful arc and felt the falling motion for a brief second when the main body fell toward the ground.

His body shook at the impact and he lifted his head, saw that the legs stood for barely a second, twitched and then fell toward the sides with a loud crash. Quickly he caught his balance, slid down the shell toward where the strange mouth and flesh was and cut straight down, felt the blade sinking in easily.

The creature shuddered, made a strange gurgling sound, trembled once more and then stilled. Tivon pulled the sword free, waited patiently and anxiously, but the creature no longer moved and he finally let out the breath he had not realized he had held. The smell of sea rose in the air, of tendrils and sea-weed. It was plastered on the creatures skin and now that he was so close he noticed that its shell was covered with corals and algae, that it must be indeed a creature of the sea.

As he jumped down he noticed the astounded and bewildered stare the Lionguard gave him and under their awed expressions he suddenly felt shy and averted his eyes, was glad that Derry rushed to his side and brushed against his leg in eager elevation that nothing had happened to Tivon. When Tivon gazed down at the hound he noticed a small crab between the dog's teeth and chuckled, scratched the dog behind the ear. “Well done.”, he praised and Derry's tail swished from side to side in glee.

“That...”, the woman murmured and blinked from the creature to Tivon. “That...was impressive.”

“It was nothing.”, Tivon murmured, could not meet the woman's eyes and felt heat rise into his cheeks. Had he truly done something astounding? He did not feel like he had.

“On behalf of Lion's Arch: Thank you. I think a proper introduction is in order. My name is Ellen Kiel. Inspector Ellen Kiel.”

“And I am Researcher Levvi.”, the Asura cut in. “I am here to investigate what these creatures are – and frankly we will have a lot of samples to finally get started.” She was eyeing the creature like someone starving for a meal.

“Whereas I am going to find out who or what prompted these Karka attacks.”, Inspector Ellen Kiel murmured and scratched the back of her neck.

“I'd like to help.”, Tivon offered and Kiel cast him a surprised glance.

“Outstanding.”, she smiled. “You should head down to the beach. A lot of wreckage washed up right before the karka attack, and it bears closer inspection. That was where I was headed, but I am content to leave it in your capable hands. The wreckage is scattered along the western beaches of Lion's Arch, from the Diverse Ledges to the Moran Memorial. Keep a sharp eye.”

Tivon only nodded and gestured for his two companions to follow him, noticed that Derry bared his teeth at the woman. “Calm down Derry.”, Tivon smiled. “She only means to do her duty.”

The hound made a noise – almost like a snort _,_ as if to say “ _She is stupid.”_

“Now now.”, Tivon laughed, and did not mind the looks that Kiel and Levvi gave him as though he was crazy.

  
  


Along the beach Tivon found various objects. Debris from recent shipwrecks, crates washed ashore. It was only when he was turning a crate around that he heard Derry bark from further along the beach and he lifted his eyes in search of the hound. “Found something?”, Tivon called and Derry barked in answer – not that it truly was, but Tivon imagined that it was.

He joined the hound and noticed a crate – almost like the others – but this one bore the mark of the Consortium and unlike the many others, it was still shut tight. Tivon grabbed his sword, brought it through a small slit and pried the lid open. The wood creaked and slowly broke and a whiff of a flowery smell hit his nose, but one that was unfamiliar.

Inside were soaked Consortium bags. The plant material inside was already rotten, but it was clear they must have come from some sort of flower. Tivon pulled a bag from the box and Derry offered to carry it, opening his jaw. “Thanks.”, Tivon grinned and scratched him behind the ears.

The dog closed his eyes contently and his tail swished from side to side. Vail glared down at them and Tivon knew that the raven must be jealous – jealous that he no longer had Tivon's attention alone. It was hard to keep the balance.

“Vail, can you find Kiel for me?”, Tivon asked and the raven crowed, spread its wings and drifted off into the sky. Tivon watched it grow into a pale dot in the distance until the Raven circled back around, crowed as a signal that it had found her and Tivon followed its lead, returning to the woman once more.

There was a commotion on the Plaza of Lion's Arch. Various inhabitants that were worried about the sudden Karka attack, and Kiel was attempting to sort through the mess. Tivon figured it was not easy being the authority here in Lion's Arch, especially right now. When he stood before her it took her a moment to register him and she could not contain the look of surprise on her face. “Back already?”, she asked. “ Any luck sifting through the wreckage?”

“I saw lots of Consortium logos. Like the one on this bag.”, he handed it to her and she took it with a frown, inspected it carefully with dark eyes.

“That's the Consortium's mark, all right. And from the look of it, that bag has been in the water for at least a week. Which means this whole mess started earlier than we thought.”, she looked thoughtful before she continued. “We talk to the Consortium. Or at least, their representative in town. We need someone in the know that we can lean on.”

“I know just the weasel. His name's Blingg, and you'll find him near Fort Marriner. He's got no spine, no brains, and no guts, so he'll roll right over. Just don't tell him I sent you.”, Researcher Levvi cut in.

“Why not?”, Kiel asked curiously.

“He's my ex. We were young, on the same krewe, we got involved...but he was a cheat, both in terms of plagiarism and infidelity. It ended badly...for his face. My fist fared much better.”

Tivon held back his grin. “I will talk to Blingg.”, he offered and Kiel nodded gratefully.

“Alright. Report back as soon as you know something.”

As soon as they were out of earshot Tivon gave Derry a charming smile. “How would you like to intimidate an asura?”

Derry barked happily at that.

  
  


“Welcome! Are you here to test your mettle and take a jaunt through the Consortium's Mystery Portal?”, Subdirector Blingg grinned.

“I'm here to ask you some questions. In an official capacity.”, Tivon replied blandly.

“Levvi sent you, didn't she? I swear, that woman can't let go of me. It's embarrassing, frankly...for her. Don't let her obsession drag you down too, my friend.”

“I won't. But let's leave Levvi aside for now. There are some questions that I need answered.”

“Ha!”, the asura laughed in glee. “Like I left Levvi aside, months ago! Zing! The only "help" she needs is a crying towel. Double zing! Just call me Blingg the Zinger! Now then: what did you want to ask?” The asura seemed to be in great spirits, completely misguided and oblivious to the truth. Not that Tivion cared – whatever happened between the two asura could and should stay between them. He simply wished he could get away from the “my Ex can't get enough off me, secretly”- topic.

“This bag bears a Consortium logo.”, Tivon chirped. “Can you tell me about it?”, he asked.

“No!”, the asura shot out a little too hastily and his expression turned from gleeful into fearful in a matter of a second. “I mean, nothing.”, he corrected and cleared his throat. “I know nothing about it. That is to say, yes, that is a Consortium logo, but no court in the land would convict on that such specious evidence.”

Derry beside Tivon growled and Tivon scratched atop the dog's head. “Easy, I know you haven't had a snack yet.”, he soothed. “Now then...”, his eyes trailed toward the asura again, could see the fear sparkling. “It washed up on the beach. And you know all about it, don't you?”

“Certainly not.”, the asura sputtered and Tivon could see the fidgeting of his fingers. “The Consortium's interests span the entire globe. The fact that some of our merchandise showed up here, right before the crisis started...it's nothing. It means nothing!”

Tivon sighed dramatically. “Derry, did you know there are tiny bones inside the asuran ears that are easy to break?” Derry almost seemed to grin at him. “Care to try?”

“No, don't do that!”, Blingg cried. “Not the ears. All right, listen: those are Consortium goods from a Consortium operation. It's got something to do with this portal, but that's all I know. I swear!”

“You know more, Blingg. Keep talking.”, Tivon said nonchalantly.

“Something went wrong with the operation...and then those sea creatures attacked...and now the portal is...it's not my fault! Subdirector Noll ordered me to keep it all quiet. Here, this is the evidence!” With a shacking hand he searched through his pocket and extended a crumbled piece of parchment and Tivon took it carefully.

 _Blingg,_  
As you well know, things are at a crucial juncture in regards to the Consortium's Southsun Cove project. Per orders from the Director's Office itself, until we can gauge the full negative impact of the karka attack on Lion's Arch, it is vital that you continue to obfuscate and misdirect any inquiries, especially those from the Lionguard and the Captain's Council.  
Reminder: we're all in this together, but foul this up and you're going down alone. 

— _Subdirector Noll_

“Then I need to talk to Noll.”, Tivon murmured. “Until then, stay where I can find you.”

Blingg lifted his arms in a pacifying manner and Tivon was just about to turn and leave before he added: “Oh, and Derry is a great tracker. Just a small warning, _my friend_.”

  
  


Subdirector Noll was not quite as boneless as Blingg. “A subdirector's work is never done. Greetings on behalf of the Consortium, but I'm extremely busy at the moment.”, the asura waved him away.

“Blingg said you could tell me about the karka.”, Tivon said and watched the expression of the asura carefully, noticed how the asura stilled and slowly lifted his eyes. There was a moment where Tivon could see a struggle behind the eyes, but before Noll could make a grab for the rifle that rested beside his desk Derry had jumped atop it, teeth bared, ears flat, and with a low growl that made the asura lean back into the comfort – and in this case, restriction – of his chair.

“All right, you win.”, Noll swallowed hard and eyed the raven atop Tivon's shoulder that flapped its wings angrily, ready to take flight. “We're already in full damage-control mode anyway... You want the sylvari, Canach. He's behind this, and I can prove it.” Noll eyed Derry carefully before he moved his hand slowly toward a drawer, opened it and placed a few papers atop the desk. Tivon took them, his eyes scanning over the lines written there. It was a contract that concerned the operation that this Canach was engrossed in that involved the new-found island Southsun Cove, as well as a letter that Canach must have written.

 _Noll,_  
I did not care for the tone of your recent request. I need no reminder of my contractual obligations to the Consortium.  
As for the requested update: The matter is being pursued by Inspector Kiel of the Lionguard and Researcher Levvi, an asura who hopes to improve her academic credentials. I expect the Lionguard to respond forcefully to the karka attacks, so we should stay out of sight and out of their way until the matter is resolved.  
I am withdrawing from Lion's Arch to Garrenhoff until things quiet down. I suggest any and all Consortium employees adopt a similarly low profile  
Do not contact me again. I will send word once I have determined it is safe to resume work on the project. 

— _Canach_

“I've nothing more to add...except that Canach is a valued member of the Consortium team, and the Consortium vigorously defends its own.”, Noll cut in, looked quite displeased that Derry was still closer to his face than was to his liking, the sharp teeth a clear indication for the danger he was in.

Tivon glanced up at that, pale, green eyes sharply piercing those of the subdirector. “I hope dearly for your sake that was no threat.”, Tivons tone dropped into something darker and dangeorus.

Noll shook his head vigorously. “O-Of course not.”

“Good. Derry, to me.”

The dog obliged and Noll breathed a little easier, but still watched in dismay as the sylvari made his way from his office – with the evidence of the Consortium involvement in one of his pockets.

“Damn leafs.”, Noll grumbled. He had thought that Canach was trouble – instead he had found out it must be all the tree-huggers, a pest, for sure.

  
  


Tivon traveled to the location that Canach had written he would be and tracked the sylvari down, found him indeed in the building on the very first floor. It felt strange to walk up to the Second-born, especially because Tivon had seen him from the experiences gathered in the Dream. It felt quite surreal – but even more so when the sylvari gave him a glare that would have easily killed him on the spot if that were possible.

“You look like you have something to say, but I don't know you.”, Canach dead-panned, hands folded in front of his chest and eyes squinted down at him. Tivon saw the sword resting on Canach's hip, noticed the strong and broad shoulders.

“Canach? I've heard a lot about you.”

“I am Secondborn sylvari of the Pale Tree. I do not tell tales or play games with my reputation. If you seek flattery or gossip, find a Firstborn.”, Canach spat.

Tivon bristled at that even though the insult was not directed at him – but he knew one firstborn, Malomedis, and the firstborn had been kind and receiving, nothing of the narcissist Canach accused him to be. “Subdirector Noll sends his regards. He gave me your name.”, he said blandly.

At the name Canach's eyes widened and his entire face changed from a cold, stern mask to a scowl. “Noll! That foolish criminal. Whatever he told you is a lie. In fact, if you press this any further, I'll take it as a direct attack on my person and reputation and be forced to react.”

Tivon frowned at the sudden and fierce reaction, noticed that Canach had tensed even more than before, the arms folded in front of his chest loosening slightly. The hand was already opening, fingers extending ever so slowly to reach for his weapon and Tivon knew he could not shirk this fight. “You leave me no choice.”, Tivon replied and leaned his body back when the swish of Canach's sword came. The movement was well-practiced, fast, and Tivon barely had time to make a grab for his own sword to parry the next strike.

Canach was a formidable fighter, quick reflexes and strong sword thrusts that Tivon only held back with a tremble of his arms. Thankfully he was not alone and Vail managed to peck at the foliage atop Canach's head, making the sylvari slap into the air to hit the raven in frustration but missed.

As Canach lifted his arm Derry jumped forward and sunk his teeth into Canach's sword arm and the sylvari cried out, dropped the sword and Derry kept his jaw clenched around the arm whilst Tivon brought his blade to Canach's throat.

Canach eyed the blade with caution and it was evident form his features that he resigned. Derry slowly opened his jaw to reveal the sap that flowed from the wound his teeth had inflicted. The sylvari weighed his options and made no attempt to grab his blade or another hidden weapon.

“I...yield. Noll told you most of it anyway, and it's pointless to keep denying what I've done. I chose to play this game, and I have lost.”

“And there will be consequences.”, Tivon said thoughtfully with a tilt of his head and decided to lower his blade. “But the Lionguard will determine those.”

Canach's eyes followed the motion of the blade and then snapped back up at him. “I will not run and be hunted like some base animal. I had reasons for my actions and will not apologize...but I'm ready to answer for what I did.”

Canach sounded sincere. For a moment Tivon wondered if the secondborn was fooling him, but that did not seem to be the case. There was a pride in the sylvari's eyes, and Tivon felt saddened that one of his brothers was responsible for the attack on Lion's Arch. That a sylvari sprouted and born from the Pale Tree had antagonized a living species to such an extent. “Then perhaps there is hope for you yet.”, Tivon murmured and Canach scowled once more.

“Spare me your wise words. If I am to be arrested I would enjoy doing so in golden silence – and not in moronic company.”

Tivon should have been angry – nobody would have blamed him if he had been, but when he looked at Canach he did not see the insult at all. He saw a small cat, constricted, shackled and caught with no way out hissing at him, because that was the only way to establish any kind of power or defiance in his position.

He saw what was beneath, not the superficial, not the surface. It was this that made him keep his cool easily and he produced a parchment and pen from the inside of his backpack and handed both to Canach. “A written statement will suffice as evidence.”

Canach grabbed the items and wrote briskly, and after a few minutes handed him the parchment back. Tivon scanned over it only briefly before he nodded.

 _This is the sworn statement of Canach, Secondborn._  
While under contract to the Consortium, I began Preliminary exploration and development of the island later known as Southsun Cove.  
During the initial survey, my team located an unknown species of plant. My contract precluded me claiming or profiting from any animal, mineral, or magical resources on the island, but plant life was not mentioned. I therefore ordered my team to collect samples of the plant as they mapped the island and set up an asura gate to facilitate access to Southsun Cove.  
I cannot swear to what provoked the karka attack on Lion's Arch, but I expect it was a combination of my team's presence and their activities on the island.  
I regret my actions and the harm they have caused. As a show of good faith in the hope of ending the karka threat, I have enclosed a copy of the initial survey map and all accompanying notes. 

— _Canach_

“I feel obligated to remind you that should you decide to run you will become a fugitive. And once you are that I will have to track you down.”

Canach's eyes hardened. “Noted.”

Tivon nodded and turned around, knew that he could not take Canach as a prisoner – he had no way to prevent the secondborn from running, he knew, but he needed to get this evidence to Kiel because she was the official force to arrest him. Additionally Tivon was not part of the Lionguard, and him arresting Canach would certainly not be the correct way to go. Whether Canach truly meant his words and would face the consequences would show itself eventually.

  
  


“Any progress to report?”, Kiel asked with a beaming smile.

“The Consortium's involved. So is a Sylvari named Canach. Look at this.”

“Amazing. I've seen Canach around. If he roused the karka, and the Consortium's covering it up...we have a conspiracy on our hands. And for once, it doesn't involve the Ship's Council. I'll have Canach picked up. I'd like to keep you around to help us see this through. Interested?”

Tivon gave her a charming, knowing smile. “What are our next steps?”

“Researcher Levvi gave me pointers that Miyani and Zommoros may know more about these Karka – what they are, where they came from and what they want.”

“Then I will speak to them.”, Tivon offered and Kiel nodded.

“You have been a great help thus far, and I think I owe you an apology.”

“I take no offense that you have done your duty, Inspector.”, Tivon bowed his head. “I will return once I know more.”

Just when he was out of earshot Levvi's eyes trailed after him in wonder. “Quirky, isn't he?”

Kiel didn't answer.

  
  


“Here to take your chances with Zommoros, the genie of the Mystic Forge? Or perhaps you'd like to see what I have for sale? I can help with donations to the cause as well.”, Miyani smiled at Tivon, but he shook his head.

“I need to ask about the karka creatures that attacked the city.”

“I don't know about them, but Zommoros is much older and wiser than I.”, Miyani answered thoughtfully.

“Can I speak with Zommoros?”, Tivon wondered, eyeing the strange Mystic Forge with curiosity. It was a device steeped with a magic that he could only see, and not feel. All that he felt was a pull and a prickling on his skin, the light that it threw compelling and mesmerizing. Anything akin to magic was lost on him, and he liked everything that he could touch rather than simply _believe_ to be there.

Before Miyani could answer a voice boomed from the forge and startled Vail into flight from his shoulder. **“** The Mighty Zommoros agrees to this audience.”, the voice echoed. “These "karka" creatures are familiar to me. Long ago, such creatures dominated the sea. They swarmed up from the depths, over shoal and shore alike.”

After Tivon recovered from his surprise he asked. “What do they want?”

“Who can say?”, the voice chuckled. “They haven't been seen since the world was emptier and the continents held a different shape. You must ask the aquatics, those that swim and have swum since ancient times.”

“The aquatics? What do you mean?”

“The fubsy blubberfolk who wisely abandoned Lion's Arch when they saw this coming. Also the poison frog people of the fen, and the silent, invisible assassins of the deep.”

“So quaggans, hylek...and "assassins" can only be largos. But where-”

“Seek your answers in Caledon Forest and Kessex Hills. And hurry: these "karka," as you call them, mean dark days ahead for you and your city. The Mighty Zommoros has spoken.”

“Sorry, that's all you're going to get.”, Miyani laughed. “'The Mighty Zommoros has spoken,' is his way of saying, "I'm bored now. Go away." He's a bit of a snob.”

“Tell Zommoros I appreciate the advice. Thank you both.”, Tivon said, already mapping it out in his head where he needed to go next.

He did not mind that this adventure took him so far away, from one place to the next. He admired the many places he visited, the flaura and fauna of each area, spoke to the different people of other cultures and races. To learn from their experiences, to catch a glimpse of their life... it was an enriching experience.

From the Quaggan he only learned that they were terribly afraid of the Karka – even more so than the Krait, and that they preferred to leave instead of staying and defending their homes.

From the Hylek he learned to make a concoction that the hylek promised him could erode the shell of the Karka and make them more vulnerable.

The Largos were a bit more reluctant to reveal any secrets, and only upon besting them did Tivon learn that Karka had a moment of vulnerability: When they outgrew their shells they shed them, opening a brief window of opportunity to strike.

Levvi was just one breath away from crushing his thigh when he brought her the concoction and the information on how to recreate it when she hugged him and he huffed a chuckle. “Thank you!”, she leaned her head against his hip and squeezed tightly before she let go and beamed up at him. “This is outstanding! We can test this on the shells right away.”

Tivon had no time to answer when Kiel approached him, her face stern and worried. “The sylvari wardens of Caledon Forest report that karka are attacking the area just south of Morgan's Spiral. We need to stop this problem before it spreads any farther. Warden Lochlain is coordinating the response, so if you can help, report to him and join his stand against the karka. I know you are sylvari, so I thought you might want to check in on this.”

“I'll leave immediately.”, he nodded. With barely a last glance at the two he was already on his way toward the asura gates. The Karka were invading not only Caledon Forest, he knew: They had already started showing up in Kessex Hills as well. If this continued they would have to find a more permanent solution – and soon.

  
  


He was barely a few days away from Lion's Arch when news of the city's state reached his ears, and news of a second Karka invasion that was a much larger and greater force than before. He hurried to assist and was surprised to find Kiel and Levvi as well as a Captain Magnus manning a catapult that had not been there the last time he had been there – and at the destruction the karka had wrought upon Lion's Arch in his absence.

Walls had been torn down, chucks of stone from the cliffs lay on the side of the road and obstructed passages, and only a line of Lionguard held the Karka back from crossing over toward the bridge – and eventually from there to the city.

When he approached Kiel nodded toward him, an acknowledgement of his appearance and he nodded back. “So, do we get to see this marvellous new weapon of yours in action, or was it all asuran technobabble?”, Magnus grumbled. Tivon noticed how large the norn was and stared in awe at the defined arms and chest, as well as the long dark hair. It made him somehow consciously aware that among these... _fleshlings_...he was the odd one.

“It's ready, sir.”, Kiel quickly said. “We wanted to put it through its paces before we demonstrated it.”

“Paces, schemaces. Just let 'er rip. The Ship's Council is getting itchy. We need results.”

“If you rush us into making a mistake, we'll have far bigger problems than your council.”, Levvi cut in.

Magnus grunted. “I suppose you're right. You may fire when ready.”

Kiel gave the worker a look and the charr gave a nod. She took a deep breath before she lifted her hand, “Take aim...and fire!”

The Karka in the distance were oblivious to the strike from the catapult, and the alchemical missile hit with surgical precision. A massive explosion rippled through the air, and even though they stood far away Tivon felt the vibration in the ground under his feet.

Where the weapon had struck nothing was left of the smaller Karka, the ground torn open. The only thing left was a crater and corpses of karka and karka shells , and the larger Karka was struggling to stay on its feet, gave a deviant screech and then jumped into the air, curled into a ball and disappeared with a splash into the sea. 

“Bear's fuzzy backside, it worked! Turned that beastie's shell into mush right before our eyes.”

“Don't sound so surprised.”, Levvi accused. “With proper research and planning, results like this come naturally.”

“I'm not surprised, you bitter little pill, I'm elated. The karka's gone, scuttled off to who knows where, and now we know how to fight it.”

“Actually, sir, I think I know exactly where it went.”, Kiel grinned. “Canach! Get over here and start sharing. This sylvari has information on how this karka mess began. Start talking, Canach.”

Tivon was surprised to see Canach, and the secondborn looked quite reluctant to be here. “Very well. Weeks ago, I sent an expedition to an unknown island to the south. They were to ready an asura gate as part of the Consortium's development plans. My team never returned. The gate remains inactive, and wreckage from their ship started washing up not long before the karka attacks began.”

“We think whatever Canach's crew did on that island provoked the karka. They struck back at the nearest possible target: us.”, Kiel concluded.

“You lost a ship and its entire crew weeks ago? And you're just telling us about it now? Your little secret put the entire city at risk.”, Magnus accused.

“If I may, Captain: Canach works for the Consortium, not the city.”, Subdirector Noll cut it. He had been a bystander in the operation, observing the success of the new siege weapon. The asura's hands were folded behind his back, chest puffed out and dark eyes gleaming with confidence. “He is contractually bound by our most comprehensive nondisclosure agreement. The Consortium has to protect its investments at every stage of development. It's a matter of commerce, I'm sure you understand.”

“This intrigue can wait. What I want now is a detail sent after that karka. Track it back to its lair and kill it while it's licking its wounds.”, Magnus ordered.

“That island is private property.”, Noll argued. “I cannot sign off on any military endeavor unless it includes a Consortium representative.”

“You'll need me and my krewe, too. Nobody knows more about the karka than we do.”, Levvi added.

“Kiel! As long as you kill that thing and prevent any future attacks, you can bring along as many of these idiots as you like. We'll sort out blame and punishment later.”, Magnus said, his tone final.

“Understood.”, Kiel nodded. “Lionguard! Squad formation. Board the ships and get ready to fight. This time, we're on the offensive.” She gave Tivon a searching look and he smiled.

“I naturally assumed I was invited.”

“Your help is most welcome.”, Kiel smiled.

 

The Southsun Cove invasion went as Kiel planned it – for most of the steps, any way. Tivon spoke to Canach while the boat sailed smoothly over the waters, the island in sight, barely a peck in the distance.

“I've admitted my mistake, but I deny the Lionguard's right to punish me. The Captain's Council has done much worse to secure their positions.”, Canach grumbled, and Tivon wondered how a person could be responsible, arrogant and ignorant at the same time. He was not quite sure how to answer either and decided to simply scratch Derry's neck in silence, not committing to the conversation at all. That did not seem to stop Canach, who seemed to need to lift a lot of frustration from his chest. “What's done is done. Punishing me for it benefits no one. However, if I am alive and free, I can atone and make restitution to the city.”

That made sense, to a point. Only that that was not how things worked. Tivon knew this, and judging from Canach's character and that he did not only _look_ but also acted smart, Canach must know this as well. 

But again Tivon said nothing, simply enjoyed the tilt of Derry's head and scratched behind his ears. He knew he should reply, that by approaching Canach he had been the one to initiate the conversation. So slowly he said, “Atonement is a process like any other. There are certain steps to take, and a distinct road to travel. Skipping steps would not work. Where life goes, so too, should you.”

Even though he had thought to have spoken with no demur or derision, Canach scowled at him. It became clear to Tivon that he should have remained silent, that Canach would appreciate none of his words unless they were a copy of his own.

Without a goodbye Tivon turned away from the rather unpleasant and demanding company, found much more joy in that of his companions. Vail crowed from atop the mast, did not seem to like the deck of the ship very well. Tivon wondered what the bird could see and without so much as a warning began to climb the mast, heard an utter of protest beneath him, but did not stop.

Atop, right beside Vail he watched Southsun Cove coming closer, an island of beauty sparkling in the distance. He could already discern the white beaches at its shores, beautiful clear waters that glittered like crystals and pale white cliffs and stones that looked like from a dream.

Derry whined beneath, could not possibly follow and Tivon glanced down. “It's alright Derry.”, he soothed. “We are almost there.”

And as they grew closer the whole deck came to life, the siege weapons were being prepared and the concoction to apply onto their weapons was passed around. Levvi had given him a small bottle of his own, both for his arrows and his sword, a small courtesy to thank him for what he had done.

It only occurred to him then that he would have been content taking nothing at all. That this kind of work pleased him and brought the inner calling of his Wyld Hunt to sing and be fulfilled. He had a Wyld Hunt, he knew, but he could not quite discern what it was. It was somehow bound with the shadows lurking beneath the jungle in a far distant land that he did not know, but he knew not if it was an enemy he had to kill or a land he needed to heal.

The world, as it currently was, was in great turmoil. Not merely because of the Karka – the Karka themselves had been part of a smaller evil, if one could call it that. The terrorizing of the Elder Dragon Zhaitan had all but consumed most efforts, and slowly rumors of the dragon's defeat reached even here in Lion's Arch, and Tivon wondered if they were true.

If truly Tyria could combine their strengths to such an extend that they could fight the very force that was inherent within, the primal and destructive force that was the Elder Dragons. He had thought it impossible, a mission where success was not a probability.

He was glad he was wrong.

When the boat finally docked ashore and the invasion began Tivon was too busy shooting arrows, giving commands to his companions – which, funnily, sometimes lead to Lionguard listening to him because they were confused by his orderly tone – and too distracted by the inspirational view of the island to recite exactly how many arrows he loosened and how many karka he struck down.

a

Kiel even found a great use for his abilities and sometimes asked him to scout ahead, alone, and he enjoyed that time most of all. Not that camaraderie was something entirely alien to him, no. It was the quiet, the focus, the ability to finally breathe in the salty sea air and to admire the view. Small streams flowed over the plane, small pits and holes filled with crystal clear water, and the ground felt like it was covered in shells and corals. His feet felt every small blemish, every stone and crevice, and to be this close to a new land was utter elevation. He felt he was one with his surroundings, one with nature in this way. 

The karka were inhabitants of this land – and it seemed almost a shame that they had to kill them. Only briefly did Tivon wonder if he could tame a karka babe, but discarded the idea. He would not experiment, even if there was a cute property in those small crab-like creatures as they skittered over the floor and clung to someone. “I'm crazy.”, he murmured to himself and Vail crowed in agreement, whereas Derry gave him a curious glance with a tilt of his head.

The plane was large, wide and open. It was infested and crawling with Karka, not just small ones. Large ones as well, and Tivon had a hard time passing by them by sticking close to the cliffs and rocks, climbing over the sides with a little difficulty.

Derry seemed quite unsure where to place his paws, whereas Vail seemed to have no trouble at all. Beyond the plane lay a large cave, and from the far distance Tivon had seen just a glimpse of a spiral that lead upwards into the mountain ahead.

When he finally reached the far end of the steep rockside that hugged the mountain he slowly descended, clinging to the stones for dear life, feet treading carefully before he finally felt ground again. The Karka closest to him were not looking at him – not that he  _knew_ where their eyes were at this point – and he slid into the cave unseen. 

The spiral lead upwards, turning higher and higher, and the ground beneath his feet turned squishy and adhesive, making his movements not only harder but also louder. Ever so slowly he moved forward, stuck close to the wall that was covered in some strange and icky fluids and spider-web-like substances that his fern armor sometimes got stuck in. The Karka did not seem to notice him as he carefully passed by, almost a shadow and as quiet as one.

It took multiple minutes to finally find the plateau at the very top and he only glanced at what he was sent to discover. It was a massive Karka, and around it, glued to the walls and onto the ground, lay eggs of different sizes and shapes, yet all distinctively Karka.

The massive Karka had a harder shell than most and looked ancient, legs larger than any he had ever seen. He slowly retreated backwards over the ground where he lay and wondered if the way back would be just as smooth. Vail sat atop his shoulder and Derry looked quite uncomfortable with his paw so deep in whatever this adhesive stuff was.

He could not send Vail off to fly all the way back on its own – the raven was too clear in color to not get noticed in this dark cave, and the company of Vail eased some of the tension in Tivon's shoulders.

Slowly they made their way back down, step for step, paw after paw until finally Tivon could see the exit ahead. In the very mouth of the cave was a small pond of lava, and Tivon wondered only briefly if the Karka hatchlings needed the additional heat in order to hatch.

He followed his trail backwards and when the climbing part came Derry could not follow the steep rise. “It's alright.”, Tivon soothed, eyeing the Karka that was closest to them with a wary glance and scratched the hound behind the ears. “Would you like to be carried?”

Derry gave him a strange look, an expression almost that of a sylvari, or even human. It looked disbelieving and suspicious, as though the dog doubted he could.

“Hey.”, Tivon smiled. “Of course I can carry you. If I can pull myself up on a tree I can carry you.”

Tivon pulled forward his backpack and began to re-arrange its contents and pulled a large, broad string made from vines and ferns, a construction of his own design. He had woven the strings together to form a broad band he could bind around his back to create something of a sling – like the ones human females had to carry their newborn babies. 

Derry gave him a credulous look and Tivon had to hold back his chuckle in order not to rouse the Karka. “Humans do it all the time.”, Tivon said as he fastened the sling around his back. “The females carry their babies like this.”

“ _I am no baby.”_ , a voice in his head answered and for a moment Tivon's hand stilled and he met Derry's eyes. For a moment he wondered if he imagined it, if the bond with his companion had already grown to such an extend that he _imagined_ the dog to have a voice, but thought it no evil thing. Quite the contrary in fact, because he was sure when Derry's eyes met his own that he was not imagining it. 

“I know.”, Tivon answered. “And I promise not to treat you as one. This is an exception.”

Derry resigned. “ _Alright.”_

Vail's claws dug into Tivon's shoulder and for a moment the ranger thought that the bird was jealous once again, but noticed that the Karka in front of them was moving. Tivon went stock-still, eyes trained on the creature that stood barely a few feet away and his heart went erratic in his chest when the creature began to turn.

“Vail, distract it.”, Tivon whispered and the Raven did as he asked, flew high into the air and circled over the Karka, gaining its attention. The Karka tensed and made a strange hissing noise, the ground thrummed as it moved and tried to follow Vail, but of course the raven was both too agile and out of its reach.

Tivon held the sling open and Derry climbed inside, the soft ferns pressing into the lower of Tivon's back. He would have liked to carry Derry close to his chest, but he needed to mobility of his arms and the full range of motion in order to utilize his whole strength f or the climb. When the sling tightened over his chest he knew that Derry rested well in the woven sling and gave it a few experimental tugs. “Alright.”, Tivon murmured, more to himself. “Here we go.”

Derry was heavy, of that Tivon hadn't had a doubt, but he refused to think on it. He could easily carry his own weight, could lift himself up on branches and jump a few feet with ease. His body was not quite as scrawny as one might expect, but not as broad as a warrior either. Instead his body was something in between: well defined, muscles pulled tightly over bone and joints, and quite enduring and agile.

It was this that made him refuse to believe that he could not do this, and sure enough he managed to make the climb, even with a little difficulty. He felt Derry's warm body against his lower back, his paws sometimes swinging and brushing against the back of his thigh. The dog made no sound, but Tivon imagined that he did not like being carried – not at all.

When they reached the top Tivon heaved a sigh of relief and knelt down on the ground, slowly undid the sling and Derry's very first reaction was to jump free and shake his ferns. “No more snacks for you.”, Tivon jested and Derry seemed affronted. Tivon chuckled and pushed two fingers into his mouth, gave a loud whistle and Vail came soaring toward him, landed on his outstretched arm with ease and precision.

“Well done.”, Tivon praised and caressed the raven's head. The raven tilted its head with a pleased expression and Tivon rose to his feet. “Let's get back to Kiel. I am sure she'd like to know about this Karka nest we found.”

  
  


“A hive?”, Kiel asked for clarification and Tivon nodded.

“The ancient karka is at the very top, and I assume it must be something like a queen to a bee-hive. There were a lot of eggs, and if we are to make a strategic strike, this would be our target.”

Kiel nodded in agreement. “We will have to push toward the cave and eradicate all the Karka before we get to it, and we need a way to lure it where our siege weaponry can shoot it.”

“I should have no trouble antagonizing the creature.” Tivon smiled. “So long as you deal with the other Karka I can lure it into line of sight.”

“That's mighty courageous of you.”, Levvi commented. “But we could easily force it to flee the hive if we plant explosives.”

“The structure is not very stable.”, Tivon murmured.

Kiel gave them both a thoughtful glance. “Perhaps the best of two worlds, then.”, Kiel slowly said. “Tivon, if you can get into the Hive and plant those explosives while we assault the plateau and entrance to the cave we can kill two birds with one stone. We need to ensure that those eggs do not hatch – killing the Ancient Karka alone will not suffice.”

“Alright.”, Tivon slowly nodded. He was not fond of the idea that they were invading on the Karka's homeland, that they were destroying the threat once and for all just because one certain secondborn sylvari had upset the creatures enough to attack them. It seemed excessive.

As he was pondering about the dilemma Levvi equipped him with the explosives and he was already on his way again. Getting back into the cave as – just as before – barely a challenge at all. The worst part about it was the climb down from the rocks, and then slowly ascending the spiral and sticking the explosives into crevices that were webbed with the strange adhesive strings.

He heard the fighting outside, saw that the Karka were stirring and rushing down the spiral to assist in the assault that was to eradicate them, and soon the whole Hive was empty, except for the Ancient Karka that moved nervously atop the plateau. Its steps vibrated through the stone and webs alike and Tivon could feel it beneath his soles, could not find an opening to squeeze next to the crevice on the side to advance – the Karka was moving too much, was constantly twisting and turning and Tivon grew restless.

He would have to act, and soon. Kiel was probably done with her assault, the noises had died down. Then he heard the swish of a missile from outside, and knew that this was his signal.

“Alright.”, he whispered to Derry and Vail. “Let's play Karka-lure.”

He got up from where he had squeezed against the ground to remain unseen, the webs clinging to his ferns and his armor covering him in a sheet of white. Just as he moved so did Derry and Vail, and the two of them charged forward, Derry with a loud bark and Vail with a loud crow.

The Karka turned toward them and Tivon squeezed into the crevice, handled the explosive and set it into the wall. Derry dodged the Karka's leg and dashed off down the slope, and Vail circled the Karka's head before following the hound.

The Karka was irritated enough to follow them with a screech, massive legs moving at a surprising speed – and passed by Tivon who remained uncovered in the crevice. It charged below and slowly the barking faded and Tivon lost no more time.

Quickly he came from his hiding place and began to plant the explosives all around the nest, right next to the eggs and on the walls and ground. When he planted the last one his eyes lingered on the small egg in front of him, saw the pulse of life in it only faintly.

It was not right. It had been them that had antagonized them first, yet they found themselves wronged and struck out to eradicate this species simply because it tried to defend itself against foreign attackers.

Tivon knew that they could barely communicate with the Karka, that striking a bargain was not possible, but he could not bear to bring this species to extinction.

The egg felt warm and pulsed gently in his hands as he grasped it and he stared at it in wonder and awe, and within a heartbeat he had decided. He wrapped it into the sling, careful not the put pressure upon it, and then, carefully and slowly, but it in his backpack.

If they were to eradicate the Karka as least he would not forget what they had done – and that the Karka had suffered for a mistake that had not been theirs.

  
  


The lionguard cheered at the victory once the ancient karka sunk down toward the ground after having been shoved into the pool of lava by a forceful projectile. Tivon felt no elevation at the victory, only at the knowledge that within his backpack rested the last hope these karka had, and that he would see to it that the species was not extinct.

Nobody had the right to eradicate anyone – or anything, for that matter – completely from a world they all shared. There had to be a path in between the destruction, a path to travel that would benefit all of them. He knew how naïve he was to believe this, but he believed it nonetheless.

Derry smelled the egg inside Tivon's backpack, gave him a disbelieving glance and Tivon knelt down in front of him. “It's the right thing to do.”, he whispered in fear that anyone else might hear and grasped the hounds cheeks gently, caressed them with his thumb.

“ _You can't control the Karka. It's too wild.”_

“It's not about control.”, Tivon murmured. “Maybe I am just weak and hope to ease my own conscience.”

Derry gave him a lick over his cheek and Tivon was surprised by the gesture. _“You are not weak.”_ Tivon chuckled.

“Thank you.”

It was almost as though Derry had a sylvari expression of melancholy and sympathy. Almost.

 


	3. Flame and Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tivon meets Braham and Rox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one! Yay! I am working as fast as I can, I swear! This story is on my mind and I can't wait until it finally evolves. It's alot about meeting the people first, and I am up to my neck in research trying not to go under (There are like 6-7 tabs open that I keep switching forth and back from, haha). But boy, this is so worth it.  
> Enjoy, peeps!

After the assault on the Karka on Southsun Cove Tivon found out that Canach had fled during the invasion. Not that he truly cared, but a part of his brain was convinced that it had known Canach would react like that, that his words of redemption and atonement had been nothing but empty air and that the secondborn believed in some other form of deluded redemption to ease his conscience.

But all of that fell from Tivon like leafs shed from a tree in autumn. His mind, heart and soul were focused on one thing, and one thing alone:

Tivon was intent on keeping the karka-baby that still was in its egg a secret, and quickly said his goodbye and left Southsun Cove to find a quiet place to raise the hatchling, if he could. He knew by now that the lava had been a source of heat for the Karka hatchlings, and that he would need it in order to keep the hatchling from dying.

His journey then lead toward the Black Citadel. The charr were ingenious when it came to designs and machines, and Tivon was convinced that he would find his solution to the heat problem. He remained near the forges and heat generators undetected, even managed to sneak into the gladium part of the city where it was hot enough that the steam seemed to melt his armor right off.

It took a week of cozy heat and gentle care until the egg finally hatched and revealed a small crab that looked little like the karka. Yet. It had four legs that were so much larger in proportion than its body and two beautiful and cute eyes that stared up at him expectantly. He experimented with a variety of foods until he found what the small Karka liked, and he slowly made a plan in his head of what to do.

He thought about bringing it to a secluded part of a forest, perhaps close to an undiscovered shore. There were many lands in Tyria that remained uncharted and untraveled where the Karka could easily live without causing a commotion, but as the months passed on Tivon noticed that it barely grew and realized that he knew so very little about them after all.

Perhaps it would take years for the Karka so grow into the massive creature like the ancient karka had been, and even then there was no telling just how old they could become. The only thing Tivon noticed that whenever a growth spurt came, small as it may be, the karka shed its skin and only slowly did the shell grow back to cover its body.

In all this time that he covertly remained in the Black Citadel his other two companions, Vail and Derry, suffered under the heat. It was a climate that did not serve them well, and Tivon was forced to let them wander the Citadel on their own, and was worried whenever they walked out of sight. Yet each day they returned, proving again how independent and strong they were individually, and how much their bond meant for them to return to him.

The hound grew a little more resistant to the constant heat and remained with Tivon longer and more often than Vail did. The bird would soar through the sky atop their heads and disappear from sight for hours – only to bring back small prized possessions that were the fruit of its hunt.

“Well done.”, Tivon praised and gentle caressed Vail's head with his fingertips when the raven brought a small mouse, a worm or sometimes even a snake. In this regard the raven was much like an eagle. Vail gave a satisfied chirp before he indulged in his well-deserved meal.

When the karka was big enough to cling to his arm, his leg or his shoulder and did not fall off Tivon was content to finally explore the Black Citadel thoroughly. Strange glances were cast his way – but he was already used to them by now, but that did not make him less aware.

When he drank from the waters of a small lake just behind the gladium quarters he saw his reflection staring back at him, and noticed that he looked different than he remembered. His face was covered in soot and grime, his birch colored skin that usually was so bright slightly tainted by the dirt that covered his skin. The ferns atop his head were the color of fresh spring grass, as were his eyes, and when he noticed that the small Karka upon his shoulder as well as Derry and Vail stared down into the water, staring at him through the reflection, he smiled.

He would not trade this for anything in the world. His two most valued friends and companions, and the most recent addition that clung to his shoulder in a tight grip.

The water rippled and moved when a leaf fell upon its surface and the image distorted to such an extent that the three figures began to mix, and it was then that Tivon wondered if such a strong bond and symbiosis was possible that they could become one.

When the water slowly stilled he lifted his eyes to search for any sign of charr or onlookers and slowly rose to his feet. “Vail, keep an eye out for me.”, Tivon murmured and took the Karka from his shoulder, settled it down beside Derry who gave the small thing a curious side-glance.

Vail took off into the air and Tivon noticed a few rocks that raised from the water and offered shelter from the looks of others and slowly made his way over the shore toward the small secluded place, stripped himself from his armor and cast one last glance to Derry who was sitting on his hind legs, watching with an intent stare.

“I won't take long.”, Tivon smiled and waded into the water, the cool surrounding his toes, his feet and ankles, rising higher over his knees toward his thighs and he sighed contently at the feeling, waded in deeper until the water reached his shoulder.

He glanced upward from time to time, noticed that Vail was circling and keeping an eye out for any that could approach, but the raven had not given any signs yet. Tivon brought his hands together, sunk them beneath the surface and splashed water onto his face, rubbed along his forehead and cheekbones to get rid for the grime and soot that had amassed there.

With a sharp inhale he dipped into the water, the feeling almost tickling in the foliage atop his head. When he rose to the surface again he marveled at the wonderful feeling. He felt clean, a bit stark, but not in a bad way. This was how he had been born, without any real armor until it had grown over his skin. This was him, vulnerable and bare, and even though he knew how dangerous this could be he did not feel scared of frightened – because he knew his companions were watching out for him, even if they probably did not understand what he was doing.

When he finally turned around and made his way back to the shore he noticed that Derry was watching with such intensity that Tivon grinned. “You want to take a swim?”

The dog rose to his feet and slowly moved into the water when Tivon had finally reached the shore and was brushing the water droplets from his shoulders and arms. The ranger watched the hound slowly growing more accustomed to the water and splash around, dive into it and resurface with ferns dripping wet.

Tivon was just pulling the armor back over his bark when Derry stood in front of him and shook away the water from his pelt, water droplets flying everywhere. Tivon laughed and held up his hands, whilst the small Karka shrunk back down behind the safety of its large legs until the shower was finally over.

With his two hands Tivon smoothed over Derry's pelt, combed through the ferns with his fingers and rubbed him dry, only with little success. They would dry soon enough under the sun, anyway.

A crow from atop their head signaled that someone was coming and Tivon smiled. “Time to make ourselves scarce.” He opened his hand and lowered it down toward the ground toward the Karka and it climbed his arm eagerly, clung to his shoulder with almost painful intensity, but Tivon had gotten used to it.

With quick efficiency they managed to hide away from the charr that approached and made their way back into the citadel. It was at the market that Tivon noticed just how packed the Black Citadel was. He could not remember ever having seen so many charr in one place. It was buzzing and alive, but it did not look as though it was merely for the trade.

These charr looked exhausted, terrified and somewhat lost. They carried belongings upon their backs, and it suddenly dawned to Tivon that these were refugees.

The next few days the swarm of refugees continued to grow. More and more came rushing into the Black Citadel, and when he asked them what it was that had driven them away the Charr seemed to be sure on one thing alone: That is was something they had never seen before. They spoke of steam rising from beneath the ground, of Dredge suddenly using fire-magic.

It was all very disturbing, especially when the swarm of refugees did not seem to cease. Quite the contrary. Many of the refugees had no place to stay and the supplies of the city were growing weary, the capacity finally reached.

Tivon sat with the refugees, did all he could to help the charr authorities to distribute what they had to offer. “Thank you.”, a charr grumbled.

“Where are you from?”, Tivon asked.

“Diessa Plateau.”, the charr replied curtly and bitterly, bit off a piece of meat. Tivon did not press, even though he was curious. His empathy did not allow him to continue asking when the charr clearly was in no mood.

So Tivon rose and overheard one of the guards as he passed by. “I heard that reports are coming in from Hoelbrak as well. The city is filled with refugees.”

“Great.”, the other guard grumbled. “We will have to find a place to relocate, or the whole city will go down in this disaster.”

Tivon's gaze turned glassy as his thoughts drifted far, far away. He thought of Hoelbrak and patted the Karka on his shoulder idly. “How about a journey, hm?”, he asked no one in particular.

 

What awaited Tivon in Hoelbrak was something he had not seen before. Hoelbrak was _packed_. Norn swarmed in from the gates, the market was overrun, the lodges filled to the brim, and these people looked nothing like travelers. They were refugees, just like the ones he had seen in the Citadel.

Tivon was well known and accepted among the Norn by now. Many knew him because of the gift Raven had given him and his natural abilities with the animals – and as such Tivon had no trouble to meet one of the skaals in the great hall. Derry shook his body, his ferns covered in snow and splattered water everywhere. Vail crowed in disapproval and Tivon only chuckled. “Sorry.”, he apologized to the Skaald who was staring down at a stain on his trousers.

“It's just water.”, the norn laughed and waved it off. “Not a good climate for such a hound, neither a good time. What brings you here, friend of Raven?”

“I was wondering why there are so many refugees swarming Hoelbrak.”, Tivon murmured and noticed that the Karka atop his shoulder was shivering bitterly. He took it into the palm of his hand and pressed it tightly against his chest to keep it warm. “I have noticed that the Black Citadel has a similar problem.”

The skaald looked sour. “Their homes have been destroyed. The Wayfarer Foothills are no longer safe, my friend.”

“Why?”, Tivon asked. “What force is behind this?”

“I am afraid we can not be certain.“, the skaals grumbled. “The refugees are in shock – naturally so. They speak of steam coming from the ground, Dredge using fire-magic, and an alliance between the Dredge and the Flame Legion and something about portals appearing. It's very confusing. We have rarely had a crisis such as this.”, the skaald looked reluctant to admit it when he continued, “This 'Molten Alliance' is powerful enough that we can barely put up any resistance, and one homestead after another falls to their force. We have had to send some of the refugees away to Lion's Arch due to our limited supplies and space, and there is, so we are assured, a benefactor will take care of them.” The skaalds eyes lifted from Tivon for a moment and stared behind him curiously and Tivon followed his gaze toward a broad norn with red hair atop his head, part of his chest exposed and Tivon suppressed a shiver at the thought how cold that must be.

“Who is that?”, Tivon asked and the skaals chuckled and slapped a large hand atop his shoulder.

“That is Braham. He's Eir Stegalkin's son.”

“ _The_ Eir?”, Tivon asked with a raised eyebrow and noticed that Derry was watching Braham intently.

“Yes. Raven knows why he is here.”

“Excuse me.”, Tivon bowed his head and looked for the norn, saw him heading toward the door to the stairs. He followed the norn carefully – but even if he had not been careful he doubted the norn would have noticed. The norn – Braham was his name, right? - was too focused to even notice that he was being followed.

Braham barged into the large chamber where Tivon knew Knut Whitebear – the leader of the norn – was. To call him a leader was not entirely the truth. Knut had gained the respect of his fellow brethren and such was a figure that they all respected. The norn did not truly have a leader.

Tivon had trouble catching up with the norns' fast pace and did not hear the first things that were said, but was then close enough to hear the rest. “All I'm asking is that you send a group of Wolfborn to Cragstead. Dredge and flame charr are burning our homes!”, Braham demanded.

“I'm well aware.”, Knut dead-panned. “The smart ones are evacuating, coming here, where we can protect them.”

“The smart ones?”, Braham asked disbelieving. “You mean the wounded and near-death ones! The fierce are fighting. Dying.”

“I'm sorry. I can't spare anyone.”, Knut said, his tone final. “Perhaps there are others who will help you?”

Braham turned his head toward the female norn that Tivon recognized as Eir Stegalkin. “What about you, Eir?”, Braham asked with a cold note in his tone.

“Braham, you need to stay here, in Hoelbrak. The people of Cragstead will—“, she tried, but Braham interrupted her.

“No. You stay, cowering around your bonfires. Soon as I restock my supplies, I'm going to get my people.”, Braham turned around, face grim and angry, not even waiting for his mother to reply.

“I didn't mean...”, Eir murmured and sighed when she realized that Braham was no longer listening.

When Braham brushed past him Tivon finally made himself noticeable. “I can help you.”, he offered and Braham stood still- had not noticed the ranger in the shadows. The norn narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion.

“Who are you?”, he asked and Tivon stepped forward.

“My name is Tivon. And these are my companions, Vail and Derry.”, he motioned to his companions, excluding the Karka on purpose. “I came to Hoelbrak because I heard of the situation and I want to help.”

The suspicion drained away and Tivon was sure that was only because Braham was quite desperate. The norn's face lit up slightly. ”Spirits guide you! I have to gather supplies, and then we will head to Cragstead. Quickly.”

Tivon had trouble to keep up with the norn, noticed that Braham was a good two and a half heads taller than him and about double his size. It came to no surprise that his legs were longer – and faster.

The way through the Wayfarer Foothills was far from safe – the roads were packed with refugees that were heading toward Hoelbrak, and upon the road they had to fight off many Svanir that tried to find easy prey with the already tattered refugees.

It was during these fights that Tivon noticed that Braham was a guardian. A magic that Tivon could not be bothered to truly understand, but it fascinated him nonetheless.

“Why isn't Knut helping you?”, Tivon wondered as he collected his arrows and Braham made a rumbling noise from his chest, the air puffing out in small clouds that rose in the air when he spoke,

“No idea. Probably been behind closed doors for too long, doesn't know what's out here anymore.”

“I...heard you are Eirs son.”, Tivon slowly murmmured, wanted to edge closer onto the topic, even though he knew it was none of his concern.

“I did not know for a long time.”, Braham answered, curtly, but not in a dejecting manner. “I lived with my father until he died – and then his friends took me in. I see no point in mentioning it.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”, Tivon said – and meant it. It was hard for him to grasp the concept of a parent, but he tried to imagine what it was like if the Pale Tree was no more, if his Mother would die, and he would be utterly devestated.

Braham shrugged his shoulders, but the emotions flickered in his eyes despite his level face. “It was a long time ago.” The norn stomped through the snow, left deep footprints where Tivon's steps were light. “What about you?”

Tivon blinked in surprise. “I...well, we come from the Pale Tree. I awakened not too long ago.”

“How long?”, Braham asked curiously. Tivon wondered if it was wise to speak the truth, but he hated lies.

“Barely Two Months ago.”

Braham stood still and frowned at him. “Are you telling me you are an infant?”

“I am quite grown, I assure you.”, Tivon laughed. “Our life is not quite like yours. We all learn from experiences that other sylvari before us have lived, and like that we share knowledge of the world. The time of my awakening is almost of no consequence.”

“Bah.”, Braham made. “I have heard of your kind and how all that Dream-thing works, but it's up and over my head. You won't mind?”

“Not at all.”, Tivon smiled. “So long as you swing that mace the other way.”

Braham laughed at that, and Tivon was glad to have eased some of that grim and eager demeanor that had been upon the norn's face. It did not last very long, however, when Tivon saw the rise of a slope ahead.

Cragstead's gate was at the top, but much of it was no longer intact. The wood was splintered, torn down by what looked like a mixture of massive force and fire, scorch marks covering the stone to the sides.

“I can do this.”, Braham told himself and took a deep breath. “Hey, I smell smoke. We have to go, my friends...” The smoke was like acid in the air. “We have to find everyone who stayed behind.”

Tivon's eyes were directed at the ground, scanning over the many footprints and various signs of fighting that were printed so obviously in the snow. “We will.”, he murmured. “Come on. It looks like they were overwhelmed and pushed back.”

Tivon took the lead, Derry running beside him. Vail had taken to the air and crowed nervously, and Tivon knew why. There were fires burning brightly in the distance that illuminated Cragstead in a dancing light, and they had yet to discover what this Molten Alliance was and what kind of enemies they could expect. He pulled the bow free from his shoulders, knocked an arrow into the string as he ran and clamped another ready for the taking into one of the karka's pincers.

He heard the screams in the distance, and suddenly one was so very close it startled him. Just around the next bend he could see a norn, blood covering the snow and painting it red beneath him, lying on his back and staring up in fear at what looked like a charr with flaming gauntlets. “No!”, the villager screamed and Tivon wasted no time, pulled the string and shot as he ran.

The arrow struck the charr at the back of the neck, its tip protruding from its throat and the charr made a gurgling noise, lifted its hands to its throat and then succumbed and fell to the ground. Braham rushed toward the villager and helped him to his feet, and the villager had a shocked expression on his face and disbelief sparkled in his eyes.

“Can you move?”, Braham asked and the villager nodded.

“Yeah.”

“The way back is free. Go.”

The villager nodded gratefully and began to move, clutching the wound on his chest with one hand, but his features were full of determination.

More of the charr and dredge showed themselves the deeper they waded in, and they managed to save some more villagers from the brink of death. Tivon mused that this was only possible because the Molten Alliance did not think anyone might strike back at them at all, and that right now they had the element of the surprise on their side, but it would not last forever.

“What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Hoelbrak!”, a villager urged and Braham lifted his large hands, placed them atop the norns shoulders.

“I came back for you. Where are the others?”

“They were chased up the mountain I...”, the norns voice broke and he averted his eyes in shame. “I couldn't move fast enough.”

“I'll go.”, Braham cut in immediately. “Will you be-”

“I'll be okay. You be careful!”, the norn urged and Braham let go, gave the norn one last nod and they saw him and the others disappear.

“We have to get to the cave.”, Braham urged and rushed forward. In the cave they found even more villagers, cornered by the Molten Alliance and managed to kill them before the villagers were done for. The cave seemed to go deeper and after sending the villagers off they continued to move on, the air growing thick and humid, and then Braham saw another familiar face.

“Ornan!”, he called and slammed his mace into the side of a charr's head that cracked with a resounding noise. Derry jumped up toward a dredge, made the dredge stumble backwards and bore his teeth into the dredges throat, tearing it wide open with a low growl. There were strange machines all round them, looking like drills. As they approached they suddenly came to life and disappeared into the ground beneath, leaving behind a thick cloud of dust and dirt that Braham tried to wave away with a gesture of his hand.

When the cloud slowly settled the villager named Ornan looked utterly elevated. “Oh, my young wolf.”, Ornan sighed in relief when he saw Braham. “We should never have stayed behind. I'm glad to see friendly faces.”

“Come on, let's get out here.”, Braham urged and grabbed Ornan's arm, but the norn shook his head.

“Braham, they took Ottilia and her family.”

“They what?”, Braham asked. “Where? Why?”

“They're collecting prisoners. I don't know where they took them or why.”, Ornan answered in dismay.

“I hate this.”, Braham cursed. “We have to help Ottilia - and her family. But I have to make sure these 'steaders are safe first.”, he looked thoughtfully at Tivon and his expression turned into gratitude. “Thanks for your help. That was a bigger mess than I expected. I wish we could have stopped those machines from getting away.”

“We will rescue them.”, Tivon tried to soothe.

“Just not right now.”, Braham murmured. “I want to tell Brimstone and Whitebear that we managed without their help. Rub it in their faces, you know? Tell you what. You go tell Brimstone. I hear he's in the middle of a big meeting in the Imperator's Core. Perhaps then they'll finally rise from behind their desks and do something about this mess.”

“Alright.”, Tivon agreed. “I will try to speak with Brimstone.” Even though he was not sure _how_.

“And I have to get these people to Hoelbrak. Once they're safe and healed and fed, I'll find out how I can rescue those who were taken.”

Tivon nodded and was already making his way back, and with a gesture of his hand ordered his companions close to his side. The information swirled in his head. That Dredge and Flame Legion would suddenly work together when they had nothing in common at all, and yet here they were, terrorizing the Wayfarer Foothills and the Diessa Plateau. And what was their goal? What did they want?

It made Tivon uneasy that he found no answer.

 

When Tivon was back in the Black Citadel he had to sneak his way into the Imperator's Core in order to get anywhere near Rytlock Brimstone. He was, after all, nothing but a simple sylvari ranger with no reputation at all, and the chances that he would be given an audience at this troublesome time was basically zero.

“Shh.”, he made to Derry when the dog whined. “We have to talk to him. There's got to be something we can do.”

“...Talk about that later.”, he heard a grumbling voice from around the corner and peeked. “I've got a mission for you. You're aware of the refugee situation.”

There stood Rytlock Brimstone and a charr Tivon did not recognize. There were other charr here as well and he wondered how many seconds he would have once he approached Brimstone until they all swarmed him.

“Yes, Tribune.”, the female answered in a steady voice. “I heard the Flame Legion have been mobilizing in northern Diessa Plateau.”

“You heard right. They're mucking with our assets up there, and it's singeing my fur. I need you to secure that hatchery we discussed. You think you can handle that?”

“Yes, Tribune. I'll leave right away.”

“Good. Take any support you can find. You're likely to need it.”, Brimstone grumbled and was already turning away toward his office, much to Tivon's dismay.

“Yes, Tribune!”, the female charr saluted and then eased, slowly making her way toward the exit, right where Tivon stood. She looked lost in thought, probably considering her options for her mission and Tivon decided that she, just as much as Braham, could probably use his help – and it would give him something to work with if he was to talk to Brimstone without getting gutted on the spot. But he needed to speak with Rytlock first and brushed past her, hurried after the charr.

“Tribune!”, he called and Rytlock turned around, glared down at him with squinted eyes. Tivon wondered if he would shrink or implode if the stare lingered too long.

“Who are you?”, Rytlock spat, and Tivon could feel the various eyes form the Guards on him. He had to play this right.

“I have a report from Wayfarer Foothills.”, Tivon quickly said, his heart thrumming in his chest.

“Where?”, Rytlock frowned, and then, slowly realization dawned upon his features. “Oh, yeah. That norn kid. You went with him?”, Rytlock looked incredulous, as though Tivon looked incapable. “How did that turn out?”

Tivon was relieved that nobody had tried to make a vegetable of him yet. “Better than expected. Things are rough over there.”

“Things are rough everywhere. You want a taste of it? I've got a soldier who could use some back—up. Name's Rox. I just gave her a mission to protect some Blood Legion assets. What do you say?”

“I'm game.”, Tivon grinned and received a a grin revealing sharp talons in return.

“Go quickly. You can still catch up with her.”

“On my way!” Tivon called and did not see the curious glance the Tribune gave him and his companions.

“Never asked the cub for his name.”, Rytlock grumbled and shook his head as he trotted back to his office.

 

Tivon caught up with Rox on the stairs and at the ruckus his feet made as they slapped over the metal floor she turned her head in confusion. A pair of sylvari feet must sound strange when one was always only ever used to charr feet – and boots in particular.

“I overheard your orders, and I'd like to help.”, Tivon offered a bit hesitantly.

“You are...?”, she asked and the frown deepened.

“Tivon.”, he quickly said. “And these are Derry and Vail.”

“I am Rox.”, she introduced herself and her eyes lingered on his companions thoughtfully. “And I am not about to decline help when it's offered.”

Tivon smiled, relieved that she had not sent him away. “I have seen the refugees in the city.”, Tivon initiated a conversation as they moved out of the building toward the gates. “It is quite packed.”

“I'm sickened by the terrible things the Flame Legion are doing.”, Rox spat and shook her head in disgust. “Attacking a hatchery of poor defenseless baby devourers! That's evil at its worst.”

They were moving down the stairs and out toward Nolan toward the hatchery. He noticed that the female charr had soft eyes, a bow strung around her broad shoulders, and just like all the other charr her body was slightly slumped forward. If she truly was a ranger Tivon wondered why she had no companion, but did not dare ask.

“Why is this hatchery such an important asset?”, Tivon asked.

“It's one of the largest Blood Legion hatcheries and training facilities. We've got a lot of resources invested in it. If it were compromised, it would be a terrible loss. Besides, all those poor baby devourers wouldn't stand a chance.”

“So why didn't Rytlock send others with you?”, Tivon wondered aloud.

“Blood Legion personnel are stretched thin protecting the citadel and preparing for war. Besides, I know a test when I see one! Tribune Brimstone wants to see if I'm resourceful. I'm trying out for his warband, you know?”

Tivon didn't. He knew very little about charr altogether. “You are trying out for his warband?”, he repeated.

“Yeah. I lost my warband in a mining explosion. I'm gladium.”, there was a small pause and she watched his features more attentively than before. “Does that bother you?”, she asked carefully.

He knew what a gladium was. He had spent enough time in the Black Citadel to know that much, at least. “You suffered a great loss. Why would I add discrimination to the fateful strike? If anything, I offer my condolences.”

She seemed surprised and turned her head away. “Thank you.”, she murmured, and Tivon was certain right then that her gentle eyes were only a reflection of her soft heart. “We're close. I'm seeing signs of dredge.”, Rox murmured, her eyes trained toward the distance. “We go fast and silent until sneaky don't cut it anymore. Then we go fast and mean.” She gripped her bow and knocked in an arrow of her own and Tivon smiled.

“I like sneaky.”

She grinned at him and then slowly turned her head, made a sniffing sound and tensed. “Wait. Something's not right. Be on your guard.”

“Vail, up. Derry, with me.” Vail obeyed with a soft crow and fluttered off into the air, whereas Derry was so close to him that the ferns brushed against his leg. They stayed in the shadows of the rocks, the waning light of day giving them an advantage. They shot the Molten Alliance from dark corners, arrows that pierced through flesh with surgical precision.

The hatchery was surrounded with Molten Alliance, and only after a volley of arrows and Derry ripping at enemy flesh and Vail pecking at their enemies did they finally secure the hatchery. While Tivon collected their arrows he heard Rox ask the prisoners they had rescued, “You there. I'm here on Tribune Brimstone's orders. Report!”

“We had no warning.”, the charr grumbled. “They came out of the ground before we could sound the alarm. Dredge and Flame Legion.”

“Your warband?”, Rox asked curtly.

“Was stationed here, yeah.”, the charr answered. “Some are dead, but the others barricaded themselves behind the south gate. Here's the key. The invaders were in pursuit. We have to-”

“You're wounded.”, Rox cut in, but there was a soft tone in her voice. “You stay here and warn away anyone else who comes. We'll go.”

Tivon pulled the last of his arrows free and gave a handful of Rox's arrows back to her. She took them with a nod and let them sink into the quiver over her shoulder. From the hatchery behind them Tivon could see a small baby devourer skittering after Rox, its wide, black eyes watching her.

She turned around after a few steps and made a motion with her hands. “Shoo!”, she made. “Go back to your nest!” The devourer did not seem to understand and want to – because when Rox moved again the devourer followed close on her heels. She made multiple more attempts to make the devourer go away ad Tivon watched with a broad smile, his hand idly caressing the top of Derry's head as he watched.

He knew just how much a bond between a ranger and a pet meant, and could not help the fond feeling in his chest that spread in warm waves.

“Oh for rust's sakes!”, Rox cursed. “Shoo. Git. I don't want another pet!” The devourer however was stubborn and defiant, kept following her around until she finally resigned to her fate. They fought their way further into the hatchery toward where the workers had to be, but once they had felled the last of the Molten Alliance and riddled them with arrows Rox shook her head in dismay, her eyes trailing over the footprints on the ground. “We're too late.”, she murmured and the baby devourer behind her chittered. She ignored it and pointed at the marks on the ground. “Look, treadmarks. Footprints. They took some of the workers away, alive. I have to secure the hatchery, but then I'm going to track them down.”

She looked determined and Tivon looked down at the devourer. “That little devourer has grown attached to you.”, he smiled.

She looked at the small baby devourer and nodded. “I noticed. He won't leave me alone. I might as well look after him for now, since the hatchery's staff is scattered. C'mon, bud. Let's get you something to eat.” The baby devourer chittered happily and she looked up at him. “I noticed your own pets. You have quite a collection.”

“They are not a collection.”, Tivon murmured. “They are my companions and friends. I trust them with my life.”

She nodded her head, her eyes suddenly far away. “Our bonds toward our pets are strong. It must be difficult managing three at once.”

“Well, Vail sometimes gets jealous, but the pecking at Derry stopped. Somewhat.” Derry whined in response and Tivon chuckled, caressed the back of his head. “But they get along, and we fight together.”

“Thank you for your help Tivon.”, she said earnestly. “I doubt I could have handled it quite so smoothly on my own.”

“It was nothing. Give me a head's up once you find out where they took the workers.”

She grinned. “Will do.”

 

Two letters reached him a few days later. One from Braham and the other from Rox.

_I had to write to tell you how things turned out. Without you, it might have gone ugly, and I'm not just talking about dredge faces. We made it to Hoelbrak in mostly one piece, so that's good. The Vigil are here, and they're starting to figure out what's going on with the dredge and Flame Legion. Looks like they're hearing about crazy weapons the dredge and Flame Legion made together. I've never seen dredge so powerful._

_Anyway, I'll let you know when I find out where they're holed up so that we can track them down. I hope you still want to come with me. So, may Wolf have your back._

  * _Braham Eirsson._




And :

 _It wouldn't have been right for me not to thank you for the hatchery. Especially since it was a warband test—one I was sure to fail without your support. I still can't believe they're letting me try out for their warband. This was the first stage of my trials, which means I owe you double thanks, really._  
  
In other news, I've been talking to a few Vigil representatives, and they tell me they're closing in on the location of the Molten headquarters. Soon as they find out, they'll tell me, and I'll tell you. You haven't changed your mind about going on that mission with me, have you? I hope not. Stay sharp!

—Rox

 

He was making investigations of his own. He was a superb tracker, especially so with the help of Vail and Derry. The eyes and nose were a great asset on his mission, and he slowly tracked through the Diessa Plateau and investigated the strange rising of steam from the ground – until he finally realized that it must be something beneath, built deeply underground.

His suspicions turned out to be correct when he noticed that the activity in Diessa Plateau involved a lot of dredge and charr that kept patrolling the area near a slope. He watched what he believed to be the entrance to the facility and wrote to Braham and Rox both, asking them to meet him here. He waited for two days, watching the behaviour intently and only slept when he could no longer keep his eyes open. The sleep was uneasy and light, until something cool against his cheek startled him awake.

Derry nudged his cheek with his snout and Tivon blinked his eyes open, felt the sleepiness slowly drain that had settled in his joints and limps.

“Hm?”, Tivon made and titled his head to the side, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Derry held something in his jaw and Tivon realized it was his backpack. He sat up a little straighter, his back aching from having slumped in his sleep and stretched his arms to the side with a hearty yawn. The bark of the tree behind him was hard and unyielding and he was still wondering what it was that Derry wanted when he slowly took the backpack and glanced at Derry with a questioning glance.

Derry sat on his hind legs, tail swishing from side to side, intelligent eyes watching him. “Do we have to go?”, Tivon murmured. Surely Vail would have made a ruckus if that were the case and the Karka on his shoulder tightened its hold the slightest as he moved.

“ _You must eat.”_ , Derry said, without words, without moving, a voice in his head that Tivon's mind produced. But he heard it, so clearly as though it was truly spoken by another. He would have to ask a mentor at some point if that was normal.

“Ah.”, Tivon made and relaxed against the tree, opened his backpack and pulled a piece of bread from the inside, bit into a piece of it and chewed it. Once he swallowed he smiled at Derry. “Satisfied?”, he asked.

Derry's tail swished from side to side, and Tivon shrugged his shoulder and took another bite. Sometimes he simply forgot to eat – until the pain of his stomach made him double over or he had no strength left. This was barely the first time Derry had carried his backpack to him, and Tivon was grateful for his thoughtful friend.

The dog came closer and curled against his side, rested his head atop Tivon's thighs and closed his eyes. Tivon caressed the dog almost idly as he ate and watched the sun slowly rising on the horizon. A few minutes passed and then he heard Vail's crow, announcing Braham and Rox and he shifted.

“Time to go.”, he murmured and stuffed the last of the bread back into the backpack. Derry lifted his head and jumped to his feet, and Tivon felt Vail's claws dig into his other shoulder when the raven landed. “Thanks.”, Tivon smiled and patted the raven on the head. Vail crowed in approval and just a few seconds after came Rox and Braham, who looked both eager and determined.

“Braham, Rox.”, Tivon greeted as he stepped toward them. “Thanks for meeting me here. I've taken the liberty of scouting ahead a little. This is the entrance to the Molten Facility.”

“The Vigil are already on their way to other facilities.”, Braham murmured. “They want to take them down – but we have to get our people back before they do. I'm not good at waiting. Not when I have friends in trouble.”, he looked at Rox and explained, “Dredge took them prisoners. I'm here to get them out.”

“I get it.”, Rox murmured. “Flame Legion took mine. But don't worry, we'll go at exactly the right time. Our destinies dictate our every move. You'll see.”

They cleared the way ahead and moved inside. It was an entrance into a cave alright, but there was no sign of any tunnel at all. A small metallic lift brought them down, and the narrow space and the darkness that was only ever broken by a few lights that glittered through the grid made all of the nervous – Vail most of all. Tivon tried to soothe the raven with gentle pats, and it was only midly affective.

“We need to get going.”, Braham urged as his eyes trailed over the walls. “Spirits know what they're doing to their prisoners. But I don't see a way to get out of here.”

“I hear you.”, Rox pointed toward a massive metallic machinery. “Okay, there's that drill over there. It means their caverns can't be far.”

“I don't know anything about machines like that.”, Braham confessed.

“I do. Used to be on a mining crew.”, there was a forlorn note in her tone that she quickly recovered from. “Follow me.” She made her way toward the machinery and just as she inspected its make – or whatever she was doing, honestly Tivon had no idea – there was a sudden rush of air and Tivon turned around.

He saw what looked like a ring of fire, and from it burst Flame Legion and Dredge. “Ambush!”, he called and in a matter of a second held his bow and had an arrow already leaning in the string, pulled it taunt and aimed.

Braham rushed forward with a frustrated cry and a swing of his mace and Tivon was grateful that the norn made quite a ruckus – it proved to be the perfect distraction. The Molten Alliance fell under their combined assault and Tivon collected his arrows, noticed that one of them was broken. He sighed.

“Got it!”, Rox called. “Okay, don't follow too close. These things can spit hot rocks! Here we go!”

The machinery started and roared to life, slowly began to spin and the tip sunk into the stone, spiralling a hole into the wall. The head turned faster and faster until finally it was so fast that Tivon could not see the movement and the machine was moving forward, drilling a hole that lead deep inside.

Braham took the lead, but heeded Rox's advice about not being too close behind the machinery. Tivon could feel it beneath his feet: The ground was warm, almost hot.

“I hate tunnels. So dark. I'll try not to shoot you in the back of the head by accident.”, Rox murmured as the darkness engulfed them.

“Appreciated.”, Tivon smiled. He knew how difficult it was to see without eyes. He had tried it once, had tried to discern his targets by listening to Vail's call, but he had missed Vail by a hairs breath and the raven had crowed in his ear for a whole day afterward.

Vail seemed to remember as well and pecked him gently on the head and Tivon chuckled. “Yes, yes.”, he said. “I'll be careful too.”

When the machine finally broke through they were inside a larger cave that was filled with Molten Alliance members, but against the three of them (Actually they were seven, but Tivon doubted the enemy counted) they stood no chance. The passage ahead lead through the tunnels and Tivon felt the heat in the air rising, the somewhat familiar scent of molten rock in his nose.

Just around the next bend Braham suddenly stood still and Tivon barely managed not to bump into the norn, although he would have probably hurt himself more than he would have Braham. When he finally saw what Braham was looking at he knew why Braham had stopped.

“By the Pale Tree.”, Tivon murmured and gripped his bow tighter.

“Uh-oh. The wolf in me is growling.”, Braham grumbled.

“Mine, too. I mean... You know what I mean.”, Rox murmured.

“Believe me. I do.” Braham gripped his mace and shield tighter.

“They're testing weapons here...on their captured prisoners.”, Rox realized.

“Is that—great Spirits, I know him!”, Braham breathed.

Just a few meters down and ahead was a cage-like construction made from metal. Inside stood a norn prisoner, and above him a heavy weight that threatened to pound down atop him. There was a scream, the snap of a chain and the weight came crashing down with a thundering noise. Tivon felt the vibrations from here, could only stare with wide, shocked eyes.

When the weight lifted there was nothing left but a mass of blood. Just broken bones and flesh, and from the speakers came a crackling voice and laughter, mad, twisted, _evil_.

Tivon felt Derry's tongue lick over his hand and looked down at the hound, noticed that he was looking at him worriedly. “We have to get down there.”, Tivon told him and Derry understood and charged off ahead, Tivon close at his heels.

The rocks only passed by in a blur beneath his feet, his soles slapping against the stone as he watched the lave bubble at the sides, splattering up onto the stone. He felt it hot beneath his feet but did not bother to break his running pace, heard the heavy boots of Braham behind him. A hole had torn open in his chest and he felt somehow empty, devoid of any emotion at all. Still and bare, instincts taking over.

“Bug off! I'm workin'. Too many buttons, pile of...”, the voice came over the speakers. “Wait, intruders? Intruders! Finally, an interactive audience.” There was another loud cackle when Tivon entered the weapon test range, but before he could move toward the other gate that lead up toward where the engineer sat the gate shut in front of his face. “New test subjects have arrived. Their timing is exquisite.” With a quick glance around Tivon noticed that Rox and Braham were right behind him and that scattered over the floor were various body parts, bones, and corpses. His stomach twisted and turned at the sight and the deep pit in his chest that had opened was filled with a molten heat he recognized as anger.

“Hey!”, Braham called. “You'll pay for this!”

“It keens with outrage, the vermin. As if that will save it. As if!” Tivon knocked in an arrow, leaned the bow up and shot up at the Engineer in a fluid motion. There was a yelp, a cry of pain that transmitted over the speaker with the sound of crackling static and the dredge held his left shoulder where the arrow had narrowly missed its heart. Before Tivonn could knock in another arrow the Dredge slammed his fist down and he heard gears moving all around him. “Begin test now!”, the engineer called and ducked away.

“The guts of the machine are behind those doors!”, Rox called over the noise.

“Braham!”, Tivon called and the norn cast him an anxious glance. “I need a lift.”

“A lift?”, the norn repeated and slowly he seemed to understand what Tivon meant, his eyes darting toward the gate. It was made from thick metal, could withstand a siege weapon, but it was not very high. He moved toward the gate and angled his shield while the ground shook when a weight fell down in the distance. “Ready.”

Tivon sprinted toward him, jumped atop Braham's shield and Braham lifted it up high into the air, granting Tivon additional height and momentum. Tivon felt light and leaped over the gate with ease, landed on his feet on the other side and with a quick cut of his sword in his free hand managed to break down the reactor of the machine before the engineer spurt from the chamber atop, glaring down at him.

“What are you doing!”, the dredge screamed, holding the wound on its shoulder still.

“Vail.”, Tivon ordered and the Raven lifted, wings flapping into the air and the screech of the dredge was the only time Tivon enjoyed the sound of a dying creature. The weapon facility stopped, the gears atop their heads halted and the doors opened with a metallic screech. There was the sound of flesh being torn away and Tivon saw that Vail was picking at the Dredge hollow eyes, but did not bother to put a stop to it.

“Thanks.”, he told Braham and the norn shrugged.

“Thanks for breaking the machine down.”

“Saved us a lot of trouble.”, Rox agreed. “That was a lot of weaponry. They sure packed for invasion. Probably going for the Black Citadel.”

“Or Hoelbrak. Maybe both.”, Braham murmured. “We have to get out of here and warn them.”

“Well, there's the exit. Let's go.” She and the baby devourer took the lead, Braham close behind, and Tivon ripped his arrow from the dredge's chest as he passed by and Vail fluttered atop his shoulder. Derry hurried toward his side and the Karka chirped nervously and ever so slowly the bitter taste in his mouth drained away.

He had never felt such boiling anger before. Never had he been so intent on using his agility and ability to kill someone with such an intense heat and hatred. It felt wrong to get carried away like that and he felt like he had lost himself to the emotion, felt disappointed at his lack of discipline.

He was usually cool, collected, still like the water, carried himself through life like the wind. The word around him shifted and he adjusted – and no emotion had before managed to surface quite so profoundly to shackle him into a single moment.

When he watched Braham and Rox he knew emotions were common, that they carried them with them all the time. Upon their features, upon their shoulders as a weight that pulled them down. Tivon wondered if it was a disadvantage – and did not know the answer. Another question, among many, he would ponder about once he had the time.

Ahead were more dredge, more charr, but they cut through them efficiently until – Pale Mother finally – they found the remaining prisoners. Braham seemed to not have noticed them in the distance yet. “I don't think this is the exit.”

“No, but look.”, Rox urged. “We found the prisoners. They're forcing them to mine!”

“We have to get them out. I wouldn't wish mining on my worst enemy.” Braham made a step forward and Rox stopped him,

“Easy, there.”, Rox soothed. “Don't rush in. Stop, look, and listen. Then we get them out.”

There was a moment where Braham actually paused and took a deep breath. “Now?”, he asked and Rox nodded.

“Now.”

They freed the prisoners, one at a time and rallied them at their position. There were various reunions, and Tivon barely listened. His eyes were trained on the massive construction the Molten Alliance had built, a mixture of dredge ingenuity and the flame legion's fiery abilities. To think that they had managed to build all of this in such a short time...it made him wonder once more.

Why? Why had they banded together? What was their goal? What kind of battle were they preparing for, and did they truly believe that they could stand against all of Tyria?

“Braham!”, a prisoner cried in elevation. “They're all over these caves. We have to hurry. Everyone pick up a weapon!”

“Are you okay?”, Braham asked concerned.

The prisoner shook his head. “I can't think about that now. Let's just get out of here.”

“Ottilia?”, Braham continued to ask with a hint of hope in his voice.

“Don't...don't ask me that. Not now.”, the prisoner's voice almost broke. “You and your friends just need to get us out.”

Braham looked like he had swallowed an anvil and nodded. “Okay.”

“That's the last of them.”, Tivon murmured, eyes still scanning over the facility. “Now what?”

“Now we get the flock out of here.”, Rox said. “Okay, everyone. We stick together, do you hear me? You're the sheep, and I'm the ram. Follow me.”

“How come you get to be the ram?”, Braham pouted.

Rox grinned. “I've got the horns.”

The prisoners behind them had been forced to mine for the-Pale-Tree-knew how long and it was no surprise that the pace was only slow. Tivon was scouting ahead, whereas Braham and Rox escorted the prisoners safely.

Ahead was a ramp that lead toward a bridge below, and from there to a platform. Beside the platform was a massive construction that rose up high into the air, up toward the very top where the surface was. There was so much metal, pipes and long-wired platforms that seemed to lose themselves in the chaos. In his awe Tivon nearly did not hear Rox and Braham approach.

“I admit, I didn't expect this. When I tell my tribune, he's going to think I've been dipping into his brandy.”

“You don't have any of that on you, do you?”, Braham asked hopeful.

“Sorry, cub. This is not your lucky day.”, Rox shrugged and chuckled.

They moved down the slope and toward the platform and Tivon felt tense. Ahead he could see another ramp that lead upwards toward a heavy dredge door, saw a few explosives lined up as well. Just as he was crossing over the middle of the platform there was a low rumble that made the metal beneath his feet vibrate and he cast a glance around him, saw that Rox and Braham had noticed it too.

“What is it?”, Braham asked and then there was a loud rumbling noise and Tivon lifted his eyes just in time toward the wall to see a massive explosion rippling and cracking the stone apart, fragments flying everywhere. Spinning from the hole came a massive charr that somersaulted toward the platform, and another metallic machine that flew down toward them with the help of some sort of engine. “Ooooh we're so dead.”, Braham murmured.

When the two landed the platform shook and Tivon had trouble to catch his balance. “Rox, bring the prisoners to safety!”, Tivon ordered and Rox gave him a curt nod, hushed the prisoners along over the platform quickly.

“Squeeee! We've got company! Hey, bruiser. You see what I see?”, the large Molten Firestorm said with laughter in his voice. The Molten Berserker only roared when the Prisoners passed by.

“I'll take that as a yippee. Let's see how colorful a smear we can make.”

“We can handle them!”, Braham called to Tivon and gave him a nod. “Spread out!”

“Vail, be careful of those flame-throwers!”, Tivon warned. “Derry, to me!”

They moved to the other side while Rox managed to bring the Prisoners across. Braham charged forward against the Berserk and managed to hold the Berserk in his position, struck with his mace against the great metal that covered the Berserker's legs.

It barely left a dent, but Braham did not even aim for that. He meant to distract the Berserker, and that worked very well. Tivon had time to position himself and coated his arrows in the very same concoction that Levvi had given him against the Karka, knocked the arrow, lifted his bow, pulled the string, aimed and breathed out as he let the string loose.

The arrow cracked into the metal, managed to pierce beneath and the Firestorm made a startled noise when one of its fire-spitting machines broke down. Tivon saw the Berserker jump into the air and leap toward him and he dodged backwards, noted in his head that the platform only had a certain width and length.

Braham smacked his mace against the Firestorms flamethrower, left a dent in the metal that bent the flamethrower to such an extend that the metal began to heat itself and glow dangerously orange. The Berserker growled, smacked his two strange gloves together and made a sharp, metallic noise that cut into Tivon's ears.

He squinted his eyes at the sharp pain that shot through his ears, felt like something had ripped. The Berserker jumped into the air, landed and smacked its gloves down. Where it landed a shockwave erupted over the ground and Tivon managed to jump into the air, felt the vibration beneath his feet as it passed by under him.

With a huff he landed and the firestorm was on him, the flamethrower directed directly at him and he dodged aside just in time before a large ball of molten rock exploded where he had stood into a thousand fiery pieces.

There was a frustrated growl and Tivon hear the swish of an arrow, knew that Rox must have joined the fray. They would have to trick the two into somehow aiming at one another. Surely Tivon could riddle them with arrows, but the concoction not only managed to break through the shells of karkas or even metal, it also burned through the steel head of his arrows, rendering them useless thereafter.

The Firestorm turned toward Rox and Tivon saw a wire dangling from the Firestorm's back toward the flamethrower that had started to glow a dangerous red. With a sprint he moved forward, jumped into the air and clung onto the wire, felt it jerking as his weight pulled at its socket.

He climbed upward – with a lot of effort – and huffed when he finally reached the socket connecting to the flamethrower. With a harsh pull the wire came loose, fire gushed out and heat engulfed his body for a second. In his panic he let go, felt light and then fell below.

His back crashed down onto the metal platform and his head swam, he could see the sparkles of flames around him in swishes of gold and red. He blinked, tried to discern what was going on when he heard Braham yell, “Cover!”

The Firestorm yelled something, but the roar of flames and machinery was suddenly too loud. The platform vibrated, flames engulfed everything in a large, searing explosion and Tivon only managed to press himself face down against the platform.

There was a ripple in the air, a hot gust of wind and he felt something warm and soft covering his shoulder, neck and head. The scent of Derry filled his nose and when finally the crackling and noises died away the weight lifted and Tivon turned in confusion.

Derry's ferns were slightly scorched, but other than that the fern hound was fine and Tivon breathed a sigh of relief, pulled Derry close to his chest and hugged him. “Oh, you.”, he murmured, was relieved that the hounds was alright. “Thank you.”

“You alright?”, Rox asked and Tivon nodded and released Derry only slowly.

“I am fine. Just...a little dazed.”

“Okay.”, Braham said, then one more time. “Okay. That wasn't so bad. Where's the next one? I'm ready.” He twirled his mace in his hand, eyes searching for a new opponent.

“Relax.”, Rox chuckled. “We got them all, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I saw explosives over there while we were fighting.”

“Explosives?”

“Rust my britches—yeah. Explosives. You all should blow this place up.”, Rox grumbled.

“What about you?”, Braham asked with a frown.

“Me? I'll be over there, by the door.”, Rox made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Let's just say, explosives and me—we don't get along.”

Tivon slowly rose to his feet, his back aching just slightly. Derry beside him looked up at him expectantly and Tivon scratched the hound behind the ears and Vail came down toward him, gave him a curious look.

“This door is locked!”, called from the distance. “You're lucky I'm here. I picked locks on plenty of these dredge mechanisms back in my mining days.”

“Great!”, Braham called with a grin. “The rest of you—if you're not setting charges, go wait by Rox. Otherwise, help me place these explosives around.”

Tivon obliged and planted the explosives all around what he suspected was some sort of generator and then slowly met up with Rox. “Got it! And not a moment too soon!”, she called when Braham joined them.

“Everyone out! I'll clear the path. Follow me!” Braham took the lead and the prisoners gave them wary glances.

“Trust me, We don't want to be here when it blows!”, Rox urged.

“Whole place is coming down! You can do it! C'mon!”

“Ignore the pain!”, Rox ordered when a charr prisoner grimaced. “Move!”

“'Braham Eirsson and the Escape from Death Mountain'—yes! I should be a skaald.”, one norn prisoner laughed.

They made it out safely, and the rumble and shacking of the earth announced the explosives going off somewhere far behind them. Tivon watched and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is it suppertime yet?”, Braham asked and smacked his two gloved hands together in an eager gesture.

“The Vigil thinks that was the last of the weapon caches. I have to get these prisoners back to the citadel.”, Rox said.

“I'm going straight back to Hoelbrak with these others. I feel good but exhausted.”

“And hungry.” Rox added.

“Yeah! So, if you're ever near Cragstead, you'd better stop by.”, Baham grinned.

“If I come to Cragstead, it won't be to lounge around your hearth. It'll be to grab you for mission support.”, Rox jested.

“I'll keep my mace handy.”, Braham joked back.

“You do that. I'll see you around, cub.”

“Not if I see you first.”, Braham grinned, but his face turned serious. “I hope this is not the last time we meet.”

“I believe fate's brought us together for a reason.”, Rox reasoned. “This won't be the last time. And thank you, Tivon, for all your help. I would not be here without you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Braham added and both gave Tivon a beaming smile. “I wanted to say that it really meant something to me that you helped me out, a stranger you didn't even know. You'll always find a warm welcome in Cragstead. Visit anytime.” Tivon's heart beat fondly and he smiled back.

“We make a pretty good team.”, he admitted and felt the heat rise into his cheeks, found it hard not to avert his eyes under the praise.

“That we do.”, Braham agreed with a laugh. “I will see you around. Maybe I'll see you in Hoelbrak.”

“Or in the Black Citadel.”, Rox grinned.

“Where life goes, so too should you.”, Tivon answered, and even though the both of them could not possibly understand the depth of what he had said, they agreed.

 


	4. The Secret of Southsun Cove/ The Last Stand at Southsun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voilà, here it is. Another! *mimics Thor and throws down empty cup for coffee* Haha. I think I am loosing my sanity here, people. Anyway, this chapter is glorious. You finally get to meet him! Who's he, you ask? Well, you'll find out. Some other time. :D  
> And now, enjoy!

_Calling All Stalwarts:_

_We've got trouble on Southsun Cove again. Tensions between the resettled refugees and their Consortium hosts are about to boil over, and the local wildlife is more aggressive than ever. On Captain Magnus' orders, I am deputizing any and all qualified volunteers to help me keep the peace. If you're up for a challenge and you have the skills, come see me so we can shut down this unrest before it gets unmanageable._

— _Inspector Ellen Kiel_

Tivon had barely reached Lion's Arch after a days journey when an owl had tried to give him this piece of parchment and he had spent the last twenty minutes keeping Vail from poking holes into the poor messenger. “Seriously Vail.”, Tivon shook his head when the owl finally fluttered off, feathers a little ruffled. “You overreact sometimes.”

Vail crowed in his ear, a defiant pout and Tivon gave the bird a stern stare that the raven did not hold and it fluttered off into the sky. Tivon sighed and shook his head once more. “I'm just glad you have some common sense.”, he murmured and rubbed beneath Derry's chin. The dog craned his neck with a pleasant expression. The horizon was turning into a deep red, darkness announcing itself as a harbinger of the night. “Let's find a place to rest for tonight.”

It was a habit at this point that Tivon could not be bothered to break. He spoke, more to himself than even his companions, but he spoke to them as if they were like him. As if they could possibly understand. He did not dwell on the fact that his most trusted friends and companions were animals that could only be trained to understand a portion of what he said because it made him feel lonely.

He made his way toward the harbor and walked the shore for what felt like minutes until he felt the cool shadow the rocks threw over him and settled down onto a small patch of grass, a swell of stone shielding him from eyes and rain.

With a sigh he curled down onto the grass and sand and lay on his side, eyes staring forward toward the water where the waves gushed in a gentle rhythm onto the shore and just after a few minutes his breathing calmed, his heartbeat matched that of the waves and as the daylight waned he fell asleep.

  


He woke in the middle of the night to the sound of water rushing and splashing. The unusual, broken rhythm of the waves made him blink his eyes open and search with hazy, sleep-laden eyes for what was making the noise.

It took Tivon a moment to discern the shadows in the distance, could see Lion's Arch's harbor and the city in the far distance, dark silhouettes painted against the black of night. The sound continued, water splashing and rushing, and Tivon's eyes trailed over the shore.

The moon was sparkling onto the surface of the water, glittering in a mesmerizing sheet of white that rippled over its surface, and just in between the waves stood a figure, so far away to be only a dark peck against the dark marine blue water.

It was not unusual for people to bathe in these waters, and so long as Tivon remained undetected even with his luminescent glow he cared very little for the figure, until he realized that among the glow of the moon that reflected on the surface was the glow of a sylvari pattern that shone brightly in the night.

He slowly rose onto his forearm, blinked once more just to make sure he was not seeing things. But right there, bathing in the waves just on Lion's Arch shores, was a sylvari with charcoal skin, dark and black as the night sky without stars, and yet the pattern glowed a brilliant white, lines and designs that embellished the sylvari's skin in a stark contrast against the charcoal skin.

Tivon's heart began to pound so harshly that he heard and felt it up in his ears. His throat was turning dry and he gulped, was not quite sure what it was that captivated him, but he could not tear his eyes away. It was rude, it was indecent, he _knew_ and yet he _couldn't_.

The figure's outline was slim and as it turned just the slightest Tivon saw it lift its hands into the air, up into the foliage atop its head that was already dripping with water and brushed through it, and Tivon noticed the outlines of the ferns glittered with a brilliant white.

He followed every movement with his eyes, noticed that the beat of his heart was elevated and rushed. Warmth spread into his limps and a voice warned in his head that he should not be watching, that he should tear his eyes away.

And yet they were glued to the figure, well toned arms and chest, and only then did Tivon realize in his slowed-down brain that it was a male sylvari bathing in the waves, hands rising over his arms to brush off the water from his skin with grace and mesmerizing nimbleness. Tivon could see the rise of the sylvari's chest from here when the sylvari inhaled and held his breath and cupped a hand full of water and brought it toward his face, splashed it onto his cheeks and the droplets echoed almost deafeningly loud in Tivon's ears.

There was just the slightest shiver on the sylvari's skin, a sign that he was freezing, and an image conjured in Tivon's head where he embraced the sylvari to share warmth. It was so fleeting, so vivid that Tivon's heart spiked and he found himself astounded at his own thought, shame rising in waves of warmth into his cheeks.

And just when he had finally convinced himself that he was delusional from sleep, that his brain was still murky and in the process of waking up, the figure opened his eyes and stared at where he was, toward him, _through_ him.

Tivon felt trapped, felt his arm begin to quiver beneath him. Not due to a lack of strength, but because of a weakness of his heart that threatened to give out under the beautiful eyes that met his own. A harsh and almost painful spike in his chest made him aware how lost at the sight he was and he opened his mouth, parted his lips but he was not even sure what to say – if he should speak at all.

The noises drained away and there was only the gentle rush of water against the shore, a familiar and soothing rhythm that was Tivon was almost deaf to. The moment stretched into a small eternity, holding them both in their own time, rooting them where they stood.

Tivon found it hard to think. Hard to breathe. Hard to _function_ at all. It was only when a cool breeze washed over his skin that he noticed that despite the heat that swirled in his belly and rose into his cheeks he was freezing, and that his lungs demanded air after the long breath he had held.

He averted his eyes, a task that felt heavier than any he had ever done before and as he did, the moment shattered. Everything turned from slowed down to suddenly too fast, his heart was beating so erratically that it was painful, and his breaths came in harsh, demanding heaves.

He trained his eyes on the grass and sand right beneath him, could not think with his mind swirling and gyrating and shut his eyes, tried to take deep, steadying breaths just like he did before he shot an arrow and gulped down the tightness of his throat.

Slowly his heart resumed at a more easy pace, his lungs filled sufficiently with air and he dared open his eyes again. The figure was gone. There was not a sign that it had been there in the first place and Tivon jumped to his feet in a hurry, felt the coarse sand beneath his feet and between his toes, rushed toward where he had seen the sylvari.

In the sand he could see dark footprints trailing off toward the grass, and from thee Tivon followed the trace with a rash beating of his heart until very suddenly the tracks stopped. As though the figure had simply disappeared or flown. Jumped? Tivon turned his head, but saw no other tracks, no other footprints and his heart squeezed in dismay.

He stared at the footprints in the sand and burned their outline, their depth, the width and length into his memory. Because he was sure otherwise he would tell himself come morning that he had dreamed – and at this point he wished he had.

That he would have dreamed instead of yearning to see a ghost again. At least then, Tivon mused when he stared out toward the sea and his chest ached, he would not feel quite so lost.

  


He boarded passage to Southsun Cove the very next morning, felt somehow more exhausted than he ever had. There was no explanation for the sudden tightness in his chest that he felt. It was as though his heart had been a bird, flying and fluttering freely until he had seen the figure, and now he felt constricted and caged, and he wished he had stood up and spoken to the sylvari, if only to know a name. He had never seen a sylvari quite so beautiful, so graceful, so _captivating_.

But the chance was gone. Disappeared like the footprints in the sand.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. There was nothing else he could do but keep it as a pleasant memory and smile upon it ruefully, a chance seen but not taken.

“Ah, Tivon.”, Kiel greeted him with a smile. “It is good to see you.”

“Kiel.”, he bowed his head in a gesture of welcome, felt the shawl that he had quickly brought over his neck and shoulder to cover the Karka shift. “I received your letter. What is this about?”

“We've got serious friction between the Consortium and its workforce of resettled refugees. I need help protecting them from each other as well as from island's crazed wildlife.”

“Why are the animals getting more aggressive?”

“The local critters are all riled up, worse than usual. Researcher Levvi is investigating, but in the meantime, I could use some help keeping the bloodshed to a minimum.”

“I'll see what I can do.”, Tivon murmured. “Where can I find Levvi?”

Kiel pulled a map from her pouch and marked a location and handed it to him. He gave her a grateful nod. “Tell her to please hurry it up. Belay that—things are tense enough already and I don't want to antagonize Levvi, too. She's the best friend I have around here.”

“I'll tell her.”, Tivon assured her and she sighed and then set off again. With a look at the map he discerned where he was, where he needed to go – and did not lose any more time.

  


In one of the camps Tivon recognized Subdirector Noll. “This is the least promising batch of refugees I've ever seen. Job-o-Tron! Status report.”, the asura ordered, had not seen Tivon approach through the grass, and he had to admit he was quite content to keep it that way, for now. He wanted to observe and perhaps find out what exactly Kiel had meant.

“Less—than—thirty—percent—of—those—polled—are—currently—gainfully—employed—as—we—define—it.”, the robot answered.

“See? You're all wastrels!”, Subdirector Noll accused a group of settlers. “Back me up here, Job-o-Tron.”

“Subdirector—Noll—is—correct. Get—a—job, wastrels.”, the robot repeated and Tivon saw the antagonized faces of the settlers, could see frustration and anger boiling in them. It was evident what Kiel had meant when she had said that the situation of the island could get out of hand.

Tivon made sure that this time he took a route where Noll could see him – just to remind the small asura that he was here. He did not turn around the see the reaction, but Derry did and turned toward him with a grin. “What did he look like?”, Tivon asked and scratched the hounds head.

“ _Terrified.”_ , the hound answered with satisfaction and Tivon grinned.

“That's the good news we needed.”, Tivon chuckled.

When he finally found Levvi the asura was moving and skittering from one place to another, her eyes constantly darting over the panels. She looked a little tired, exhausted even, if the lines under her eyes were anything to go by.

“Levvi.”, Tivon greeted cheerfully and she looked up at him and her face lightened up.

“Tivon.”, she greeted and her eyes fell toward a blinking panel once more. “I have several lifetimes of research here, but only one life. Even aside from the karka, this place is a treasure trove of rare flora and unique, if increasingly belligerent, fauna.”

“Belligerent fauna?”, Tivon echoed.

“Something is riling up the native wildlife. To figure out what, I need samples of local environmental anomalies. The more volunteers I get, the faster I get answers.”

Tivon shrugged. “I am at your disposal. I am sure Derry can pick something up, too.”

She smiled at the hound. “I am sure he can. Take one of my jury-rigged sample detectors and start scanning for and collecting useful samples for me.” She gestured with a wave of her hand toward a small crate with various devices inside them that looked more like guns than any sensor he had ever seen, but he trusted Levvi not to send him on a mission to destroy all fauna instead of exploring it.

He pulled a scanner from the chest and inspected it. There were various strange displays showing arrays of light and energy levels, but he could not be bothered to understand what they truly meant – and how this sensor was to discern how a sample would be useful for Levvi. What mattered was that she apparently trusted this device. “Alright.”, Tivon murmured and lifted his gaze again. “I'll let you know once I find something useful.”

She nodded in thanks and he did not disturb her any longer – and set out to put the sensor to good use and explore the island to its fullest.

  


He spent days walking around with the sensor. It was a familiar weight by now, the sound it made – a constant beeping noise once something of interest was nearby that only faded when Tivon plucked the flower, piece of flora or whatever it was free and collected it in the sensors container – a noise he had grown used to.

The container was filled with a great variety of things he had found, and most intriguingly the animals of the island – for example the drakes – seemed to find him especially threatening when he approached. He had spent quite a few minutes fleeing from crazed animals, as he had just had.

Heart pounding from the chase he stared down the cliff, noticed the shore beneath and a long line of sand that built the shore, but there was not a single person in sight. The sun was already low and it was the north side, the cliffs casting a long, cool shadow which he followed with his eyes, and the breeze that gently caressed over his skin was a great relief to the heat his body had produced. The grass beneath his feet rustled as he moved along the cliffside, eyes scanning for a crevice, a small cave, anything he could find shelter in for the night.

Kiel and Levvi had offered him to stay in one of the Consortiums establishments, but those places were crowded with people, especially nobles from Divinity's Reach that were pulled to the island by the promise of its natural beauty and its relaxing quality. This was, after all, a project to create a holiday resort.

That the Consortium refused to admit that the island was not truly safe, that the wildlife was currently crazed and created a dangerous environment was one of the many negative aspects Tivon noticed, and he wondered how someone could be quite so irresponsible.

Either way he stayed away from anyone as best as he could. He found it much more relaxing to be out here, sleeping atop the grass or even a woven hammock as he did in the Grove, and the fact that his companions were here as well made him feel safer than any wall or building ever could.

His eyes caught sight of a small cave below and he tilted his head and crouched low, tried to discern if perhaps it was inhabited by some animal, but even as he watched, still as a statue for multiple minutes he saw no movement. That itself was no sign – after all the animals could be either away and return in the night or they could remain inside.

“Let's check it out.”, Tivon murmured. There was a small slope that lead downward and Tivon balanced himself on his feet, his hands searching for purchase along the cliff and slowly made his way down, turning his head constantly to look after Derry who seemed reluctant to follow. He whined pitifully and Tivon halted. “I could carry you.”, Tivon offered once more, and the dog gave him a look as if to say

“ _Do I have to?”_

Tivon chuckled. “This is the only place that looks deserted. There's not a single soul in sight, and I would rather avoid being attacked by some crazed drake in the middle of the night.”

The dog looked at him and seemed to nod, and only then did it strike Tivon as odd. There was no way that the dog could possibly understand and he sighed at himself for being so utterly stupid. “Come here.”, Tivon beckoned Derry closer and pulled himself up again, sat on the cliff and brought the broad sling from his backpack once more, bound it around him and Derry climbed into it, the warm ferns tightly against his lower back.

He slowly climbed his way below and exhaled when his feet finally met the sand. It was both soft and coarse underneath his feet and he helped Derry from the sling. The first thing Derry did was jump around, paws leaving a deep imprint in the sand and shacking his ferns.

Tivon watched with a smile from where he was crouching and slowly rose to his feet. There was another reason he was looking for a place that was isolated and secluded, and the reason was still clinging to his shoulder. He knew he could not keep the Karka with him, not forever. If it grew there would come a point in time in which he could not carry it any longer, which in itself was no problem, but he would have to explain to everyone else why he had saved it.

That was one way he could deal with this. It did not truly bother him to explain the moral dilemma he had experienced and decided to act – he was sure that some would understand, and others would not. That was they way of things. He did not shirk the consequence of being discriminated, perhaps even frowned upon or hated. He simply did not know how the Karka would grow – and if it would be a companion like Vail and Derry when it did.

The other option was to search for a place that he could put the Karka, a place very much like where it had been born, where it would grow and be undisturbed by anyone. A place Tivon could frequently visit that would remain undiscovered. Such places did exist, but were hard to find.

He doubted such a place was on this island. There was no way he would put the Karka in the danger of being discovered by one of the Consortium members – just to be experimented upon. No, there was no way Tivon would allow that.

Slowly and carefully he made his way toward the cave, but it was already clear that it was deserted and uninhabited: There were no signs of life, no footprints, no marks in the sand at all. The water rushed toward the shore in its gentle rhythm and he could smell the salty sea air, feel the brush of wind.

It was elevating. Freeing. So much so that Tivon simply stood closer to the water, the crystal clear blue waves rushing over his ankles and feet and closed his eyes, took deep, calming breaths that filled his nostrils with the scent of sea-salt and grass form atop the cliffs.

He stood there, still and unmoving for many minutes, did not mind the time passing by. The only thing he noticed was that he slowly grew colder, that the water was almost freezing, the wind cooling his skin down until a soft shiver trembled over his bark.

The sound of paws on sand brought him from his reverie and he felt Derry brush against his leg, making a noise like a whine. Tivon caressed the hounds head with a smile. “I'm fine, Derry.”, Tivon soothed. “Just enjoying this experience.”

Derry looked up at him with his dark, intelligent eyes, and Tivon felt like Derry wanted to transmit something, _say_ something, but it was the first time Tivon could not quite discern what it was. The moment stretched, even though it was barely a few seconds, and then, very suddenly, Derry barked, jumped and ran off toward the cave, making Tivon jump in surprise.

“Alright, alright.”, Tivon said with laughter and waded from the shore over the sand toward the cave, felt the sand sticking to his feet and ankles as he did. The cave was small, barely a small hole in the side of the cliff, but it would offer shelter against rain and the harshly blowing wind. He set down his backpack, opened and spread it apart, slowly pulled the Karka from his shoulder and placed it inside the warmth and cosy inside where it chirped happily.

Vail was still drawing his rounds through the sky and would continue to do so until the sun had set – it was a natural rhythm for all of them. When the sun rose so did they, and when the night fell over the land they slept. It was a natural flow they all followed, and Tivon and his companions more so than any other.

Once the Karka rested easy inside the backpack Tivon rose again and waded through the sand, his feet noticing small sharp pieces of rock that pierced from beneath, but he did not mind. The bark there was hardened and he hardly felt any pain there at all. His toes remained somewhat sensitive, and he liked to curl them into the sand with each step that he took.

He left his backpack and the sensor behind, only shouldered his bow and quiver and marched over the shore, exploring just how far it stretched, how beautiful it was. His weapon was only a precautionary measure: After all he could still meet resistance.

Derry seemed to be sure there was no danger at all. He brushed past his legs, rushed forward and left deep paw imprints in the sand. The dog had not said a word, but when the dog looked back to Tivon knew he was up for a chase, and Tivon chuckled, shook his head and then sprinted after the dog.

The sand yielded easily under his feet and he smiled happily as the wind brushed past him, through the leaves atop his head and the only thing that would have made this even more perfect would have been the sun not going down in the west.

They ran together what seemed like half an eternity, until the sun had gone down so far that Tivon could only notice the red streaks in the sky, announcing the night.

He finally stopped, felt the warmth spread through his limps from the performance, but he could have gone on through all night. He felt delighted and content and Derry gave him a look. “Let's go back.”, Tivon grinned and turned around, “Perhaps I can -”

His body stilled, his voice died away. There, where the shore bent around the cliffs stood a figure. The very same figure he had seen that night, at the beaches of Lion's Arch. He stood agape, legs suddenly shacking and the figure was looking at him, and in the dim light Tivon saw the pattern glowing once more, white streaks against charcoal skin.

He was certain he was dreaming. That he was dreaming wide awake. His heart finally resumed to work, pounding hard in his chest and when the figure turned away he yelled, “Wait!” The figure did not heed him, walked slowly, ever so slowly around the bend out of sight and Tivon's legs moved without him begging them to, moved so fast over the sand everything was a blur.

When he finally reached where the figure had stood and looked it was gone and his chest heaved with every breath. His hand gripped the stone, the cool, edgy surface almost cutting into his palm and he gulped, knelt down into the sand and stared at the footprints, knew that they were real, that he was not dreaming at all. That the figure was real. His fingers ghosted over the sand, over the corners of the footprint with such a careful touch that barely a grain of sand moved.

The steps lead toward the cliff and then toward the water, and from there did not return. He stared out onto the sea and wondered why his chest felt so constricted, why his heart would not stop aching.

And slowly, as the water gushed at his feet and the wind flew against his foliage, he realized where he had once been free, where his heart had been unburdened and easy it was now laden and caged, shackled by the fascination and desire to know someone, to know the figure that he knew was real, and yet somehow wasn't.

  


The next day he brought the container to Levvi and gave her the contents as well as her sensor, and her eyes grew wide and a smile spread across her lips. “Wow.”, she breathed. “That's quite the samples you found. Thank you.”

“It was nothing.”, Tivon shrugged. He felt a little restless, his eyes searching over the rocks and the high grass in the distance whenever a brush of wind made them bend ever since he had seen the figure again. It was an anxiety mixed with the feeling of being watched – and the fact that he imagined the figure everywhere he went.

He could see the dark figure disappearing behind a shed, and then the next moment blink and notice it had been nothing but a play of his eyes. He tried to remind himself that he was not loosing his mind, that the footprints had been evidence of the existence, and yet here he was with nothing but dark patterns painted against sand, and the feeling that someone was watching him from the shadows.

“You alright?”, the small asura asked, had noticed that he stared over his shoulder every few seconds. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“I am not sure I haven't.”, Tivon replied in a murmur, his eyes trained on the patches of grass in the distance. Levvi gave him an incredulous look and he slowly turned his head back toward her. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“You can try and find Kiel. She has her hands full trying to keep the settlers from murdering Consortium members. I can imagine she'll appreciate the help.”

Tivon nodded. “Then I'll take a look. Take care Levvi.”

“You too Tiv.” The abbreviation came as a slight surprise and Levvi laughed when he gave her a startled look. “Sorry.”

“No, it's fine.”, Tivon murmured. It was as though the abbreviation brought down a barrier he had not known had been there, a barrier that had put Levvi more toward the side of an acquaintance rather than a friend, but now that barrier had shifted.

Levvi grinned and waved and he waved back as he made his way over the grass and the sand, tried very hard to ignore the figure that appeared from the corner of his eyes. It was maddening, to have the sylvari appear in the periphery of his vision only to disappear like a phantom – or as it turned out – to be nothing but an illusion made from the soft shifting of vines, leaves and grass beside rocks and trees.

If this continued he would only grow more tense, and possibly paranoid. There was no reason to believe he was in any danger – and he didn't. But to think that the figure was here, that he could see and not see it at the same time made the race of his heart and the yearning to speak to the sylvari grow into a sweet ache.

Thankfully Tivon found Kiel not far away from where Noll was – which frankly was no surprise. What was a surprise however was the fact that nobody had impaled Noll on a blunt object yet, considering the way he treated the settlers.

“Right: any more violence and I'll use all of you to chum the waters of Sawtooth Bay.”, Kiel threatened a settler, her eyes hard.

“Go ahead.”, the settler tested her patience. “I'd rather be shark bait than a prisoner.”

“You're not a prisoner. You signed a Consortium contract to be here.”, Kiel reminded him and gave Tivon a glance when he approached, a small nod as a greeting and then turned her attention back.

“Because there was an emergency. Now the emergency's over, and I want out. And I don't want Consortium mercenaries on my tail for the rest of my life, waving that stupid contract.”

Kiel sighed. Tivon knew how delicate and hard the situation was, especially because there was nothing Kiel could do to soothe the settlers that things would get better. From what Tivon had learned the Consotium would only continue to exploit the settlers in their miserable state – and Tivon could understand the anger that must be boiling within them. “I'm sorry, but my hands are as tied as yours. You signed it, so you have to stick to it. In the meantime, quit stirring up trouble, or you're fish food.”

The settler waved his hand and snarled, but turned without lifting a fist at anybody and Noll seemed to let out a breath of relief. Kiel turned away from Noll without casting the asura a glance and beckoned for Tivon to follow her.

“These people are constantly getting riled up, and there are reports from all over the island of transgressions and violence.”

“Levvi is still trying to figure out the belligerent wildlife.”, Tivon told her. “I collected some samples for her, but she is still working on it.”

“Then we will have some answers soon.”, Kiel nodded. “That's the only good news you've got for me?”

Tivon gave her an apologetic smile. “The wildlife was less than happy with my presence. I can assure you it was no walk in the park and plucking a flower from a garden.”

“No, that's-”, Kiel pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. “I didn't mean it that way. I am grateful that you are volunteering to help. Something tells me that we can not get the situation on this island under control, not when there is so much behind on behind the scenes. I get the feeling the settlers get more agitated day by day, and that someone is riling them up.”

“Anger fluctuates out of control easily.”, Tivon murmured, remembered the Dredge Engineer in the Molten Facility. “It's an explosion waiting to ignite. All it needs is a spark.”

“And that spark is what I am trying to snuff out.”, Kiel grumbled. “That doesn't mean-”

She cut herself off when she looked toward the beach and she was small drakes rising from the water, running over the sand in the distance toward a heavily built building.

“The wildlife are attacking the building.”, Kiel frowned and gave Tivon a look.

“I'm with you.”, Tivon assured her and he watched as her lips quirk into a tired smile. Together they rushed forward, Vail taking to the air and Derry's feet crunching in the sand.

The animals were completely crazed and out of control. They would not be pushed back and would not stop – drakes and skelks alike. They all banged and attacked the building, ramming bodies and fangs and heads against the metal until it bent.

They had no choice but to kill them, and when Tivon glanced over the dead animal's bodies he sighed and looked at his sword in dismay. The blood there was evidence that he had had no choice, yet that was no consolation. Just as he lifted his eyes and was in the middle of sheathing his sword he saw it again, the sylvari, just from the corner of his eyes, but when he looked he noticed it was nothing but a play of his eyes again, the shadow of a palm tree that gently rocked in the wind.

The clack of the sword falling into the sheath was loud in his ears when he tore his eyes away. Why was his mind playing such games with him?

“This is the Consortium Logo.”, Kiel murmured thoughtfully, her hand under her chin as she inspected the damage on the building. “Why were the animals so intent on getting in there?”

“I know a certain someone we can ask.”, Tivon shrugged.

“Noll.”, Kiel nodded.

  


“Tell me everything.”, Kiel demanded. “These buildings seem to be the target. What's inside?”

The asura folded his arms in font of his chest and lifted his chin defiantly. “That information is strictly on a need-to-know basis. And mind your tone. The Consortium is the victim here.”

“Fine.”, Kiel shrugged. “Have fun being trampled and eaten until someone who needs to know shows up.”

“Wait, wait. Given the circumstances... These are simple storage depots. Tools, supplies, records...”, Noll yielded reluctantly.

“Why would wild creatures attack caches of tools, supplies, and records?”, she frowned.

“Figuring that out is your job.”, Noll snapped. “And just so you understand the stakes–this isn't an isolated incident. Our Southsun records on the mainland have also been targeted. Destroyed, in fact. The originals here are all that's left. I'm having them collected so we can protect them, but I want Lionguard assurances. If the Consortium loses this important asset, the Captain's Council will hear all about your incompetence.”

Tivon was quite sure that Noll had already written at least one or two letters in which he complained about the Lionguard and their capabilities, but he was smart enough not to mention it. Instead he used it as a threat, but Kiel didn't seem to care much for her reputation.

“We are doing what we can.”, was all Kiel answered. “I'll have a dispatch sent to protect the records.” Noll nodded, but it was a firm and cold nod. Kiel massaged the back of her neck and Tivon followed her as she made her way through the camp. “This is a clear sign that someone is behind this.”, she murmured. “It can not be coincidence that the animals are attacking the storages where the contracts are – it's too good a target to be. Which means it is strategical.”

“So someone is behind the belligerent wildlife.”, Tivon concluded and Kiel nodded.

“Levvi would surely appreciate that information. I am sure knowing that someone tampered with the environment will help her find what exactly it is.”

“Then I'll go.”, Tivon offered and Kiel shook her head with a smile.

“What would I do without you?”

Tivon was already jogging along. “You're doing fine, Kiel.”

He could not see, but she was beaming.

  


“Well, that much was clear from the start.”, Levvi dead-panned and took the wind out of Tivon's sails. “The natural wildlife would not just suddenly turn belligerent. I had simply thought that the sudden flood of settlers agitated them, but I found something much more disturbing which corresponds with what Kiel said: These animals were goaded into attacking those buildings. These samples that you have given me all had traces of a chemical that results in the aggression of the animals.”

“Then all that is left for us to do is find out who that someone is.”

“I will leave that much to Kiel.”, Levvi said. “She is the Inspector, not I. I simply hope this won't affect the wildlife permanently. Whoever did this must be desperate – and posess strategic intelligence.”

“It feels like guerilla warfare.”, Tivon murmured and sighed. He would have to get back to Kiel again and bring her the information from Levvi – surely she could make use of it somehow. He did feel like a messenger more than anything else – not that he truly minded. He got some exercise along the way and could enjoy the view and some much more enjoyable quiet that none of the camps could provide. “Stay safe.”

“You too, Tiv.”

It still sounded a little strange in his ears, but he shook the feeling off and jogged through the grass and sand, mind completely focussed on the task at hand when he saw it again, leaning against a large rock that loomed up high into the air.

At first Tivon cursed himself for allowing his mind to trick him once again, but when he turned his head to check he noticed that this time it was _real_.

There, in the distance, was a sylvari with dark charcoal skin, back leaned against the rock and arms folded in front of his chest, eyes staring right at Tivon.

Tivon's legs suddenly refused to work and he came to a halt, heard the paws of Derry right behind him hurriedly coming to a stop as well. He could not make his legs work, stood rooted on the spot as he watched the figure in the distance and watched as the sylvari pushed away from the wall and gave him a luring smile.

The seconds stretched and Tivon's heart raced in his chest, he felt suddenly cold and as though his mind had been pulled from his body. As though he was watching from above, as though his body was not his own.

Only when the sylvari turned away again did Tivon finally regain the ability to think, to walk, to speak. “Wait!”, he called and almost flew over the grass and sand. His breathing was labored when he approached, saw that the sylvari was barely a few metes away, he would reach him soon and just before he did the sylvari disappeared behind the bark of a tree. When Tivon moved around the sylvari was gone once again, with no trace left behind except for a soft chuckle that seemed to drift to him with a soft breeze that filtered through the foliage atop his head.

Tivon stood, chest heaving with every breath and he stared blankly ahead before he sank with his back against the tree toward the ground. “I am losing my mind.”, Tivon murmured in dismay and Derry titled his beautiful head as though he did not understand.

He met the dogs eyes and gulped. “I am not just imagining this, am I?”, Tivon asked. “Am I seeing a ghost?”

Derry did not understand and Tivon rested a gentle hand on the hounds head. “Sorry.”, he mumbled. “I...need a moment.”

It was fuelling a frustration inside him that when he looked over his shoulder he only saw a ghost, that what he saw was not real, that what he experienced wasn't. That it was all nothing but an illusion and he could not break out of it. He wanted so much for it to be true, that the sylvari existed, but every time he thought he was real he was rattled by a rude awakening. He questioned what he had seen, that the footprints he had inspected were real, and that his eyes were truthful.

It bored into his bark like a thorn and his shoulders tensed, his mind was restless and he slowly rose – even more confused and troubled than before.

And as Tivon disappeared around the corner the sylvari watched from beneath the shadow of a Palm Tree and smiled a broad, wicked smile.

  


Tivon quickened his pace when he saw smoke rise in the distance over the stone cliffs. “Thank the gods!”, Kiel cried when she saw Tivon and the ranger had a startled expression on his face when she approached him.

“Is...Kiel, is that your blood?”, he asked when he saw a cut through the long shirt on her arm that was drenched in red. She waved it away with her hand.

“The settlers are trying to get to the records and contracts. We have trouble pushing them back.”

Tivon jogged beside Kiel and trained his eyes on the fires that rampaged through the camp, and there were cried and sounds of fighting that wafted over. With an expert motion Tivon pulled his bow free and took two arrows between his fingers and leaned them loosely into the string.

Surely he would not have to kill the settlers, but intimidating them would be enough. “Derry, don't hurt them.”, Tivon ordered. “They are angry – and rightfully so. We can not answer anger with anger.”

“I hope that will work.”, Kiel murmured when she observed the interaction. The Lionsguard squad were holding their ground fairly well against the settlers that came armed with little else than the tools they had been given: Planks, staffs, a few of them even carried shovels to the fight.

Tivon managed to startle a few of the settlers with arrows that landed just an inch short of their feet and they gave him a surprised glance that quickly turned into a mask of anger and he was forced to defend himself with his sword, disarmed a settler and gripped the staff instead.

With the blunt weapon he managed to swing the staff around and to the sides, eliciting various cries of protest and pain whenever the staff collided with skin and muscle. The marks he left would surely bruise, but he was content to keep the lesson to such a level instead of using his sword. A permanent end would have done nobody any good.

The settlers yielded to the Lionguard forces and Kiel approached a woman kneeling on the ground, her hands tied behind her back by a Lionguard officer. The woman lifted her dark eyes defiantly and met Kiel's own ones with more gall than Tivon would have thought she possessed.

“What were you thinking?”, Kiel accused. “This could have easily ended in a much more different and bloody way than this.”

Realization flickered in the woman's eyes and she dropped her gaze, her defiant stance broken. “I’m sorry. We were after the records… the contracts that keep us here. We just wanted to be free.”, she sounded desperate and broken and Tivon felt sympathy for the woman, knew that the road that had lead her here was not an easy one. “He had a plan, and we were getting desperate. He said nobody would get hurt but the Consortium. He was...a sylvari. Kind of a snob. Tough, though. He knows this island inside and out.”

“He...”, Kiel said, and then an epiphany dawned upon her features. “Of course he does. He spent a lot of time here exploring the place. Didn’t think he’d ever come back, though. A reckless sylvari who knows Southsun Cove, and has a grudge against the Consortium? We’re looking for Canach.”

“Canach?”, Tivon echoed and remembered his encounter with the second-born sylvari, and truthfully it was a befitting image that the bitter twig would actually rise to become a schemer in this guerilla warfare affair.

“Take them into custody for now.”, Kiel ordered and then turned toward him. She had exchanged her real sword for a shovel which she shoved into the sand with a rough movement. “At least we’ve got something to go on. Now to see where it goes.”

“If Canach is here all we have to do is track him down.”, Tivon said and Kiel nodded.

“That would be the appropriate action, I agree. But the island is larger than you would think, and the Lionguard are spanned too thin as it is. If I send them to canvas the island they are vulnerable to ambushes.”

“I can track him.”, Tivon offered. “With Vail and Derry I have all that I need to find him.”

“All that you have done is greatly appreciated Tivon.”, she smiled. “I am reluctant to ask for one more favour after all you have done, and all I can offer you in return is my gratitude.”

“Believe it or not, I actually enjoy what I do – especially that which I do best.”

“Then I'll keep you no longer. Just don't engage Canach on your own, that's too dangerous. He will most likely plan for the eventuality of being discovered and have planned ahead, so be careful.”

“I will. Keep the beaches clean while I am gone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Another demand. Where is my list?”

Tivon laughed and was off.

  


Tracking down Canach was not easy. Tivon spoke to those settlers that had attacked the storage and asked them where they had last seem him and proceeded from there, but the tracks were not easy to follow. Tivon spends hours discerning where Canach had went and found himself in the waning light of day, the long shadows cast by the large rocks covering him in shadow.

He was studying a path of grass that was ruffled in strange angles as though someone had stepped upon it when he heard a chuckle drift toward his ear. He lifted his eyes and turned his head, but could not see anyone anywhere. The feeling of being watched prickled on his skin and he slowly stood, grasped his bow and an arrow and readied it in the string.

If there was one thing he was trained and proficient in it was patience. His eyes trailed over the darkened area, the trees and the grass as well as the rocks, but whatever had made that noise was no where to be seen.

Vail clawed into his shoulder almost painfully and Tivon cast the raven a glance. “What is it?”, he asked in a low voice. Perhaps the Raven saw something that he could not. The Raven's eyes were trained toward a small crevice that lead into darkness between the rocks and Tivon's heart jumped painfully.

“Derry, to-”

“I would not do that, if I were you.”

Tivon jumped at the sudden voice behind him and Vail shrieked and flew into the sky abruptly. Tivon turned with a quick twist, raised his bow and pointed the arrow straight at the figure behind him – and froze.

Before him stood the sylvari that had followed him through day and night, that had occupied his mind. The male smiled at him with an enigmatic smile and up close he was even more handsome and beautiful than Tivon's mind remembered. The eyes were black and white, a white outer ring with a dark iris that pierced him and pulled him into an abyss of darkness. It was like looking right at a solar eclipse in its most magnificent moment.

The armor that hugged the sylvari's skin outlined the shoulder and chest, whereas the legs were concealed with ferns that dangled loosely toward the ground to offer and allow movement. A large thorn sat in the very middle of the male's chest from which the leaves and vines sprouted to entangle with his bark and reached up high toward his shoulders and arms that were covered scarcely. The neck and the part where neck and shoulders met lay free, revealed the bare, dark bark beneath. The sylvari armor was self-grown, Tivon could tell, and it was just as dark as the skin beneath with a soft hue of emerald in the setting sun.

An aura wafted from the sylvari toward Tivon, powerful and engulfing. He felt small and vulnerable under the gaze and could no place it, but it felt bone-crushing and inebriating at the same time. He opened his mouth but found himself incapable of forming any words, and it was only when Vail returned to land on his shoulder that the pain of the claws brought him from his reverie. “W-Who are you?”, he stuttered and took a step back. The bow was still pointed with the arrow right at the sylvari's chest and the male gave the arrow and incredulous stare.

All this time they had held the gaze, had stared at one another and Tivon felt warmth spread in his belly. “Would you shoot me if I told you?”

Tivon lowered his bow so fast the arrow almost fell from his numb fingers. His heart was erratic in his chest and he shook his head. “No. No, of course not.” His hands paled as he gripped the wood of the bow harder.

The smile on the sylvari's lips widened and Tivon's throat turned dry. “I am here to help you.”, the sylvari said, the voice was dark and Tivon could not tear his eyes away when the male brushed past him in a fleeting and graceful movement, the ferns of his light armor rustling softy as he moved, and a scent washed by that eased some of the tension in Tivon's shoulders. He turned to follow the movements of the sylvari, his eyes lingering. “The sylvari you seek hides in the caves ahead, but they are plastered with mines.”

Tivon frowned. “How do you-?”

“I tread where I want.”, the sylvari answered, and whatever mystery remained behind that smile turned a shade darker when the male turned around to face him again. “And I am seen only if I want to be.”

“Just...who are you?”, Tivon breathed, felt suddenly as though he could not take in the oxygen his lungs demanded.

The male watched him for a few agonizingly long seconds and then took a step toward him, close enough that Tivon could smell lavender and lotus and feel the warmth of the sylvari's presence on his own bark. So close in fact that the sylvari looked down on him and their faces were barely inches apart and Tivon's heart almost seemed to give out, but his body refused to move. His breath hitched and caught in his chest when the male stared down at him with capturing and entrancing eyes.

“Someone who is interested in keeping you alive.”, the male answered in a low, sultry voice, the smile only faintly painted into the corners of his mouth, the eyes alone speaking of a desire that lay hidden beneath. Tivon opened his mouth, his lips gone dry and he could not help but stare at those two beautiful eyes, noticed that the male leaned down even further, that nobody had ever looked at him that way before -

and Vail on his shoulder gave a loud crow and the moment was broken. Tivon could breathe and gasped, took a step back and felt heat flush into his cheeks. The male gave Vail a curious and amused look before his eyes slowly trailed back toward Tivon.

Never had Tivon felt such a pull before. It had been astronomical, powerful, unimaginable. He felt ashamed that he had been completely helpless and the spike of his heart as it finally resumed was like a stab in his chest and he gulped, “I- I am sorry.”, he stuttered, and the male chuckled. It was the very same sound Tivon had heard before – a chuckle carried in the wind toward his ears.

“I'll be watching you, _Tivon_.”

The male distorted and began to fade right before his very eyes like a mirage in the desert and Tivon stood utterly dumbfounded at where the male had stood for multiple minutes and willed his heart to calm down. “Just...what...”, Tivon breathed, his legs shacking and he sunk down, stared at the ground in front of his feet and felt the bow drop from his hand as his fingers trembled.

A mixture of excitement and nausea filled his stomach and he could not discern the emotions that welled inside. He was confused, that was the sole thing on which he was sure.

Derry nuzzled his head against his arm in a gesture of comfort and Tivon was torn from his self-absorption, lifted his hand to caress the hounds head. “I have no idea.”, Tivon murmured. “I have no idea what that was.”

Vail crowed in his ear as if to answer and Tivon nodded. “I'll be careful.”, he murmured and took a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet. He could feel the eyes on him but even as he turned around he could see nobody – but he knew _he_ was there, whoever _he_ was.

  


“You found it?”, Kiel asked the next morning. Tivon had barely rested that night, had sat atop the cliffs with his feet dangling in the air and his eyes gazing out over the sea. He was not yet sure that what he had seen could be true, that someone could simply _disappear_ before his very eyes. But he had seen it and it left him stuck with doubt.

Technically the male had told him where Canach was and Tivon had simply assumed that the information was correct and could be trusted, a notion he now regretted, even though he could not imagine that the male could have a reason for deceiving him.

Perhaps the sylvari worked for Canach. That would certainly explain a few things, especially why the resistance he had met was quite well-organized.

“I found a cave that is worth investigating. I dared not enter and heeded your warning.” _Lies_ , he thought bitterly. He could not tell Kiel of the sylvari. She would think him crazy if he told her that the information had been given by someone who disappeared into thin air.

“Alright. Let's see if we can snuff out Canach.”, Kiel nodded and together with her squad she followed Tivon, who felt that nauseating feeling in his stomach once more. These people depended on him, he had said that he could track Canach down, and here he was relying on somebody else's intel he did not know was trustworthy.

The caves loomed larger over his head, the air tasted bitter and mouldy. Small mushrooms grew at the sides of the passages and illuminated it with an eerie green glow, and Tivon raised his hand to tell the others behind him to halt.

He could not lead them through this. Not when he knew that there were explosives planted around them somewhere – if the sylvari had said the truth. How had he been so trusting? That had been so naïve. But he had no time for self-pity and self-loathing.

“What is it?”, Kiel asked in a hushed voice, and Tivon felt his skin prickle. When he turned around to face her his eyes darted from her face toward a shadow in the far back where the entrance was, and Tivon believed to see the sylvari's eyes blinking at him from the darkness.

Kiel frowned at him when he opened his mouth, stared over her shoulder and didn't respond. She turned her head but saw nobody and her frown deepened.

“Tivon?”, she asked once more, a bit more urgent and Tivon's eyes snapped toward her. He looked as though he was unsure and insecure.

“I will scout ahead.”, Tivon murmured after and agonizingly long two seconds. “If Canach planted explosives we need to disable them before we head any further.”

Kiel nodded and gestured for Levvi to hand one of her improvised mine-detectors to Tivon, watched as the sylvari slowly disappeared. The sylvari looked tense and a bit beside himself, but then again he had always been a strange one, Kiel mused. The ranger returned after a few minutes with his pets in tow and signalled for them to follow.

“So?”, she asked.

“I have found and marked the devices. Some of them were beyond my knowledge, but Levvi should be able to find them and make easy work of them.”

Kiel signalled for Levvi to do as Tivon had suggested and the small asura rushed off with her crewe, disappearing from sight while Tivon went the only way he had found.

It lead to the left into a small passage that looked like a dead-end to the idle on-looker, but Tivon had seen the small crevice and the scratches on the walls as a sign of something scraping over it consistently. Someone must have squeezed through here.

When they did Tivon found himself in a large cave, the ground full of mines. They blinked furiously and just there, standing in a corner and slowly rising from a sitting position, was Canach.

“I got this.”, Tivon told Kiel and she gave him an incredulous look, but nodded.

The sylvari looked changed. He looked grimmer and darker, his eyes glared over to where Tivon stood. It was almost as though the rage and frustration wafted from the secondborn toward him.

“It was only a matter of time.”, Canach spat. “I do not regret anything I have done. Whatever happens will be of no consequence – the fruits of my success will ripen in full.”

“This is wrong, Canach.”, Tivon said and stepped forward.

“What do _you_ know?”, the sylvari seethed back and drew his sword, slowly began to approach him with striding, easy steps. “My work here is for the _people_ , whereas you have done nothing but play the Connsortium's games. You are nothing but their puppet.”

“And you are a puppet of your own pride.”, Tivon harshly shot back. “Who are you fooling but yourself?”

“Enough of this.”, Canach spat. “Let's end this. I should have killed you that time.”

“Killing me will bring you no satisfaction.”, Tivon frowned. “There will always be another to fight renegades like you.”

“Oh, I'll enjoy making you silent, _Sapling_.”

Tivon pulled his bow from his shoulders and took his arrow. How was there so much anger mixed with the feeling of self-righteousness in one sylvari? How was it that Canach functioned at all?

He watched where he moved as they circled one another, eyes set glaringly, Canach's even more intense than Tivon's could ever be. Vail leaned forward, claws digging deeper ready to take flight, and Derry was close on Tivon's heels, following him like a shadow.

“Won't you shoot?”, Canach teased and raised his shield. “Or are you afraid to waste your arrows?”

There was a moment Tivon wondered how indeed he would take Canach down. The warrior was not only stronger and more enduring, but he clearly had more experience. It would be a difficult battle for sure, and Tivon was not here to kill Canach. He was here to capture him.

“A bit.”, Tivon answered. “Vail, Derry,” he ordered, “Attack.”

Canach growled and his blade swished through the air when Vail flew toward him. With a quick turn the raven evaded the strike and there was only the sound of the sword cutting air. Using the momentum Canach turned and slashed at Derry who was running toward him.

The dog made a sharp turn and the sword met air once more. In the that moment Tivon let go of his arrow and it flew through the air and Canach lifted his shield just in time. Steel met steel and the wood of the arrow splintered.

Canach jumped toward where Tivon stood, struck at him with his sword in a straight-forward strike. Tivon stepped side, did not have time to put another arrow into the bow and ducked when the sword struck toward the side at his abdomen.

It swished over his head and as Canach turned Tivon saw the round metallic shield and then it smacked against his body and shoved him back.

He stumbled and caught himself on his hand, found his face just inches away from a beeping explosive. A sharp pain rose from his nose and he stumbled to his feet, discarded the bow on the ground and as he turned to face Canach pulled free his sword from the scabbard at his waist.

Vail gave a loud crow and struck with long, sharp claws at Canach's head, left a large scratch on Canach's foliage. The sylvari growled and struck at Vail but missed once more. When Derry jumped Canach kicked at the dog, but Derry sunk his teeth into the inside of Canach's thigh.

The secondborn did not even cry out. With a shove of his arm he threw Derry off and the hound landed on his feet and shook his head, bared his teeth at Canach with a low growl.

The sword came fast toward Tivon's head and he barely lifted his own, had to use his second hand to hold the strike back. He grit his teeth and pushed, saw that Canach was pushing as well and raining his shield to shove it against Tivon again.

As he did Tivon jumped back, the mines planted on the ground around him in his mind. Canach jumped after him and with an overhead slash aimed for his shoulder. Tivon raised his blade, the metal screeched and Canach's blade glided along his and cut down.

For a second Tivon stared at the blade that rested on his shoulder and so did Canach, both in utter surprise. There was a soft and annoyed chirp from beneath Tivon's shawl and in that moment Tivon raised his sword and cut in a diagonal line across Canach's chest.

The warrior cried out and stumbled back, raised his hand to clutch at the wound from which sap flowed. The secondborn stared at the golden liquid on his hands and raised his glowering eyes at Tivon.

“You and your pets are a nuisance.”, he seethed.

“Don't continue this fight.”, Tivon asked of him. “You have lost one way or another, Canach.”

The wound on Canach's chest was deep enough that the warrior considered his options and ever so slowly Canach dropped his sword to the ground where it clattered deafeningly loud. Tivon stood a little taller and breathed a sigh of relief.

“He is all yours now.”, Tivon nodded toward Kiel and the woman came forward.

“You got away clean. Why'd you risk coming back just to stir things up again?”, Kiel asked, and Tivon carefully glanced beneath his shawl to look at the Karka resting there, and it looked up at him questioningly with two gleaming dark eyes.

“Thanks.”, he whispered and the karka chirped happily in return. Tivon decided that he would definitely see to it that it ate well tonight.

“I'm doing what the Lionguard can't–I'm helping the refugees. The Consortium used legal trickery to trap them here. I needed to send Noll and his superiors a message, and these people needed hope. So I provided it.”, Canach growled.

“Well, that hope you provided left a trail of wreckage and broken bodies across my island.”, Kiel said as a pair of Lionguard put shackles over Canach's hands.

“It doesn't matter.”, Canach shrugged and grimaced at the pain. “The last of these contracts will be destroyed and the settlers will be freed.”

“Not by you.”, Kiel shot back. “You're officially a Lionguard prisoner, Canach. Again. You've done all the damage you're going to do.”

There was a smile on the secondborns lips. “You still don't understand. My plan doesn't require me to see it through. Every possible Consortium record depot on this island has already been marked. Soon, every residency contract will be destroyed, along with anyone who tries to defend them.”

“Take him away.”, Kiel ordered with a curt gesture of her head.

“You think salad boy can make good on his threat?”, a charr asked.

“I do. He's a knotheaded prig, but he's dangerous.”, there was a small pause in which Kiel rested her hand beneath her chin, her eyes far away, considering her options. Only slowly she raised her eyes. “I'm declaring this an official Lionguard emergency. Double-time it back to Noll.” she nodded toward Tivon. “I want those contracts off Southsun Cove. If there's no target, maybe Canach's plan will fizzle. He was collecting them anyway. Tell him to finish as fast as he can and assemble them for transport. I'll provide the ship to Lion's Arch. This is a public safety issue, so it's nonnegotiable. Make sure Noll understands that. I'm going to fix this. All I need are reinforcements...and as much black powder as I can get.”

Tivon grinned. “On my way.”

  


The ship was laden with the contracts when it moved from the harbor of Southsun Cove and they all stood at the shore to watch it depart. Tivon had told Noll exactly what Kiel had said, and the small asura had obliged in his panic.

It made the whole thing even more satisfying when the ship suddenly blew up on the sea, barely a few meters away from the harbor. Wooden splinters scattered high into the air and came down with a splash onto the waters, and Noll looked positively sick and utterly devastated.

“What...what just happened?”, Noll gasped.

“Oops. Looks like Canach was one step ahead of us after all. What a shame.”, Kiel said with absolute zero sincerity in her voice. “I'll be filling out forms and giving explanations to my superiors for weeks. Luckily, my Lionguard had orders to clear the ship if anything unexpected happened. And hey! Without those records, the settlers have no more reason to riot. So things aren't all bad.”

“I see.”, Noll spat. “You're in serious trouble, Inspector. I advise you to make those explanations very, very good.”

“Thanks, but I'm not worried. Turns out I'm fairly adept at thinking on my feet.”, she grinned and with that left Noll to stand there, glaring out toward where the contracts lay utterly destroyed. Tivon followed her and she had a shit-eating grin on her face. “Did you see his face?”, she snickered and Levvi joined in as well.

“Yeah, he looked sick.”, the asura chirped and could not help but snicker as well.

“I am glad we could do this much for the settlers.”, Kiel smiled. “Canach may have done this the wrong way, but his intentions were good.”

“Intentions do not justify that he sacrificed all those lives.”, Tivon murmured and she nodded.

“I do agree with you. These settlers will have no more reason to riot, and I imagine they will be a lot happier.”

“You have done well.”, Tivon praised, even though he was not sure it was his praise to give. Nevertheless Kiel smiled at him.

“It was only possible because of your help.”, she reminded him and he averted his eyes shyly.

“Aww.”, Levvi made and rested a hand on the side of Tivon's leg. “He is all flustered now.”

Vail crowed defiantly, and even the two of them seemed to understand the _Leave him alone_ \- part, and even though Levvi retracted her hand and Kiel had an apologetic smile, the both of them broke into laughter and soon after, Tivon's own chuckle joined in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else just keep smiling that the Karka blocked Canach's blade and even made an annoyed noise? "Come on people, all I wanna do is sit here all day! Give me a break!" Haha. It's adorable.  
> I hope you enjoyed this, I truly did. To see Canach so bitter and frowning over everything after all the character development I went through with him in "Shirking Sparks" was a real revelation for me.  
> If you liked it, maybe you liked it enough to leave a comment? A kudo? Both? That would make me very, very happy! Love you guys, and much love to you! ~S


	5. Dragon Bash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! The story finally progresses and we get to meet Majory and Kasmeer! Excited? Hell yeah! We also learn one or two things about our mysterious sylvari, and the tension rises. (Hehe.)  
> Ready? Well, what are you waiting for? Go! :D

_This world has lived in shadow from a pair of demon's wings,_

_but none here fear the future or the darkness that it brings._

_The monster puts on quite a show, expecting us to yield,_

_but there's just one course of action when we take up sword and shield..._

 

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_Drive it right back into its den!..._

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_May it never rise up again!..._

 

_We send our best and bravest to attack with all their might,_

_the skillful and the willful each line up to join the fight._

_The beast may leave corruption in a swath across the land,_

_but we won't leave it breathing when our heroes make a stand..._

 

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_Drive it right back into its den!_

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_May it never rise up again!..._

 

_Minions come in dozens from the Peaks and from the Shore,_

_But we face each wave with bravery and we'll never lose this war._

_In every brawl a few may fall but more will join the queue,_

_and if that lizard shows it's head then this is what we'll do..._

 

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_Drive it right back into its den!..._

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_May it never rise up again!..._

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_Drive it right back into its den!..._

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_May it never rise up again!..._

_BASH THE DRAGON! SMASH THE DRAGON!_

_May it never rise up again!..._

 

Tivon watched the crowd below grow wild as the song played again and again, and from atop the rooftop, far away from the crowd where he sat with Derry in his lap and Vail on his shoulder, he smiled down toward all those people that sang so very cheerfully.

The rumors of Zhaitan's defeat were finally confirmed. Their first victory against such a massive beast of power as a united Tyria. There was not a single soul that could possibly deny these people their joy, and Tivon was content to watch rather than be part of it.

The festivities had been going on for a few days now, and it seemed that now even the smallest child could sing along to the song of the dragon bash. Some had even invented a dance that matched its tune, and they would all dance together on the plaza in swirls and twists and turns, so much so that is even made Tivon dizzy just from watching.

It had been a relaxing few weeks after the events at Southsun Cove. Kiel had brought Canach back to Lion's Arch now that her expertise was no longer needed on the island, and Tivon had seen her a couple of times, waving up at him from below. She was looking out for him, he knew, because otherwise he was as good as a shadow, hidden in the darkness of the night.

Which was difficult, considering all the lamps and lanterns that the people had lifted up high into the sky to illuminate it. It was even harder to see the stars, and Tivon missed gazing up on them. The constellations in the sky helped remind him that the world was larger than his life sometimes alluded and that he found peace of mind in knowing that even he, small as he was in comparison, could leave an impact on Tyria.

The night was refreshingly cool on his skin and he watched a small child being dragged by its parents over the square in the swirl of the dance, a gleeful smile on its face that showed just how happy it was.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”, a voice behind him asked and he was startled out of his skin, yelped and Derry jumped from his lap in surprise, whereas Vail was already up in the air crowing accusingly.

Tivon grabbed the side of the rooftop with an iron grip, had nearly slipped right off and into the turbid water below . He looked up on the gilded sylvari standing atop the angled rooftop who made the act of balancing look easy. The male looked relaxed, head tilted slightly to the side and revealing the crook of his neck.

“You.”, Tivon breathed out. He had not seen the sylvari ever since that one time in Southsun Cove just before he had discovered Canach's Lair, and it had lead him to believe that the sylvari was no longer following him. It was foolish, he now thought, especially since there had been plenty of indicators that the sylvari clearly had some sort of interest in him – one Tivon did not yet know.

“Me.”, the male replied and smiled a charming smile and made his way toward Tivon, setting one foot in front of the other so gracefully that the movement looked like fluid water. The body swayed ever so gently and effortlessly that Tivon wondered how such grace could even exist. The loud noises of the crowd below nearly drowned and faded away and Tivon could only helplessly crane his neck and stare up at the sylvari as he approached him.

Slowly the male came to halt barely half a meter away and stretched out his hand and waited patiently. Tivon looked at the dark hand, lithe, long fingers and looked up at the male in confusion.

The male chuckled. “Come on, I won't bite.”, there was a small pause before he added in a low, auspicious voice, “Yet.”

A warmth filled Tivon's body and he was not sure how to interpret such a statement. Hesitantly he reached out and grasped the outstretched hand, felt it warm and soft beneath his own, more calloused palm. The male pulled him up and Tivon clumsily wobbled onto his feet, abandoning all his dexterity and ability to balance in the wake of his nervousness.

They were close – far _too_ close – and Tivon made a step back and felt the edge and air meet his heel. A spike of panic filled him and the hand that had pulled him up grasped him tighter, pulled him forward and away from the edge. Tivon lunged forward just slightly at the pull and bumped against the male's chest, but retreated just as quickly with heat rising into his cheeks that he could feel up into the tips of his ears.

“Thank you.”, he mumbled and wanted to pull his hand away, but the male drew closer, engulfed him in an aura of warmth and the scent filled his nostrils once more. “W-What are you-”, Tivon stuttered as a hand came to rest around Tivon's back and Vail gave a defiant crow from above, clearly not agreeing. Tivon's free hand pushed against the male's chest, but he had no strength nor incentive to actually shove the sylvari away. He registered the feeling of the warm bark beneath his palm, the yielding ferns that gave way under the soft pressure of his hand and comfort that the loose embrace offered, despite that Tivon tried to tell himself not to be.

The sylvari's eyes were directed somewhere past Tivon's shoulder and the male did not even seem to evince their closeness. “I came to warn you.”, the sylvari all but whispered in Tivon's ear and Tivon turned his head away in the hope of hiding his embarrassment, the words brushing over the outer shell of his ear. “This place – the city itself – is not safe.”

That rattled his conscious mind awake. “Not...not safe?”, Tivon repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The ship's council is here, as well as other representatives.”, the sylvari murmured and Tivon looked over his own shoulder down toward the plaza and the dragon effigy, his eyes scanning over the crowd. He could see the massive norn Magnus standing at the far back with a large ale in hand, but other than that no familiar faces. “There have been various threats on their lives.”

“Threats?”, Tivon asked and turned back around with a frown. “How do you know this?”

The male's eyes studied him for a moment before he leaned back and released his hold on Tivon and noted with a dead-panning tone, “You do not trust me.”

“You are a stranger.”, Tivon brought out defensively.

The male considered this. “You may not know me, but _I_ know _you_.”

“That-”, Tivon shook his head. “That is hardly fair.”

“I believe you are a force of good in this world and that you would do all in your power to avert the death of innocents. Am I wrong?”

”I-”, Tivon stuttered and then shook his head when he finished, “No, you are not.”

“Then I assume you have work to do.”, the sylvai smiled, but there was an undertone in his voice that Tivon could not decipher.

He stared at the sylvari for a moment longer before he tore his eyes away and slipped wanton over the other side of the rooftop and landed with a soft tap of his feet and huff on the pavement before he dashed through the streets and alleys, pushed through crowds and hurried through the city, his two companions hurrying after him.

The male watched from atop the rooftop with a nonchalant expression, a crumbled letter resting in the inside of the sylvari's coat. (1)

  


“Tivon.”, Kiel greeted him. “It's unusual to see you here.”

“Kiel, the people at the ceremony are in danger.”, Tivon brought out in between breaths.

“What?”, Kiel raised an eyebrow. “What do you know?”

He was at first not sure how to answer and had to suffer her credulous stare and gulped. “I...can't say.”, he finally brought out in dismay. “But you have to trust me on this.” It was terrifying, how he was willing to stir the entire lionguard on the simple information given to him by a stranger.

The woman's eyes studied him for a moment before she gave a firm nod. “Alright.”, she yielded. “I trust you. Lionguard, with me. The next big event will be the lighting of the effigy, and I can imagine just about anything going wrong.”

“Thank you.”, Tivon sighed in relief. It certainly could not hurt to be cautious, and if the information turned out to be false, well...Tivon would know more about the sylvari, then.

“You have helped me on numerous occasions.”, Kiel explained with a smile. “I would be foolish not to listen to a friend.”

Tivon averted his eyes shyly. He had not realized that the woman might think that way and view him as anything more than a volunteer worker. Her smile widened when she saw his expression, but she did not tease him about the dark color that flushed into his cheeks.

The plaza was crammed with people standing all around the effigy they had built of the dragon. Tivon could see the ship's council members standing close to where Magnus was, all staring to where the effigy had been built. They were placing small items at the dragon effigy's feet and then stepped back once more. The atmosphere was light and held some of the festive energy from before, but a solemn undertone mixed with it as well.

Tivon's eyes searched through the crowds, but he could see no sign of anything amiss and it was making his skin prickle. Was it the anxiety that something might happen? If the sylvari had not said a word Tivon would have never known. He would have sat up on the rooftop, far away, only watching.

 _This place – the city itself – is not safe_ , the sylvari had said. _Someone who is interested in keeping you alive._

Tivon gulped down the nervousness in his abdomen that mixed with the anxiety. The eyes of the sylvari were on him, he could _feel_ it, and yet when he turned his head he could not see the figure anywhere. The rooftops were empty and devoid, dark with the presence lurking somewhere in the shadows. The lamps threw a soft glow upon the building's outer walls, creating a yellow and orange hue that fitted well with the large torches that lighted the square.

He slowly pushed through the crowd, dodged whenever a dancing pair threatened to swing into him in their unconcerned ways. Vail was somewhere over his head, his white form hidden in the dark sheet of the sky and Derry had gone off somewhere else, but Tivon was not worried. The hound liked crowded places as much as he – which was not at all. He squeezed in between two norn whose upper arms were as wide as his two legs combined when he finally saw the effigy looming high into the air right in front of him.

His eyes trailed upward over it. It was large, wood as inflammable material coating its outside and lain on the ground to place the torches. At its feet lay various items – lockets, stones, small momentos and tokens from all those who had lost someone in the fight against the dragons. It was a symbol – that in death they would be remembered, that the loss, just as the loss of the momentos – signed an unforgettable event that would linger in the hearts of people so that the struggle and the sacrifices could be honored.

So many people had died in the fight against Zhaitan. Tivon tried to imagine just how many, but he found it unimaginable to do. Among the many tokens lay a small picture, hand drawn with charcoal and Tivon crouched low to inspect it more closely.. It was a picture of a human female's face with round, beautiful eyes and a smile that looked enchanting. She wore vigil armor, a large, round metallic shield on her back and a simple sword resting in a sheath at her waist.

She was most likely dead, Tivon thought bitterly and turned his eyes to the side when he saw movement. A charr bent down and placed a small token atop the various others, but the charr's claws lingered. For a second Tivon stared, wondered if perhaps the charr was struggling to part with the item when Tivon realized what the item was. It was a small capsule that had a magitech glow to it on the side, and it gave a soft pulse.

“Hey.”, Tivon said and the charr twitched in surprise and turned his head toward Tivon. The charr had dark fur, dark, gleaming eyes that suddenly grew wide. Tivon frowned at the reaction, opened his mouth and saw the Charr's claw twitch. It all happened in a rush; a loud booming noise rippled through the air, his bark felt tingly all over when he felt the electrostatic pulse, and and explosion rippled through the air and blasted him backwards. The ground, his body, _everything_ felt like it was shacking and Tivon only ever so faintly heard the scream and cries of people all around him, the edges of his vision growing dim.

The present seemed to slip from his fingers and he groaned but could not hear himself. Instead there was a sharp beeping noise in his ear and when he blinked his eyes open he saw shadows hushing over his vision and the effigy burning so brightly it hurt his eyes. When he turned his head he felt warm sap flow over the back and side of his head and turned onto his side, the edges of his vision still blurry.

Someone bumped into his shoulder and he grimaced when someone else stepped onto his fingers, but the pain barely registered. His mind was focused on one thing alone, and he searched with his eyes for his companions, for any sign of Derry and Vail and his chest constricted in aching worry. The only comfort he found was when his fingers trailed under the shawl and over the karka on his shoulder that had nuzzled against the crook of his neck, both to shrink away from the danger and protect Tivon's neck from the blast. He turned his head slowly, eyes gliding over the Karka and he noticed that the Karka was alright except for a few scorch marks that left dark soot on the Karka's shell. He pulled the shawl over it protectively and found that his side ached at the movement and he grimaced in pain. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

He could not tell how long he sat there, how long he tried to discern where he was and what had happened when suddenly a hand touched his shoulder and he blinked up, noticed that a Lionguard was staring down at him. The light of the effigy danced over the worried human's features and Tivon saw the lips of the human move, but he could not hear a word that he said. Tivon frowned, tried to follow the movement of the lips and only caught the gist of what the human tried to say. _“Are you alright?”,_ the human repeated, and Tivon was not sure how often the Lionguard had asked.

“Yeah.”, Tivon croaked out, his own voice only a vibration and with dull resonance from his chest. He made an attempt to stand and the Lionguard helped him with a hand under his arm and pulled him up. “Thanks.”, Tivon murmured and gazed over the plaza, but before he could ask if the Lionguard had seen a hound and a raven the man was gone.

The people had scattered. Where there had been a crowd remained only chaos, belongings, cups and scarfs scattered all over the square. Some people lay on the ground, withering and groaning, others were not moving at all. It took Tivon a moment to collect and find himself again. It felt as though his mind had been dragged from his body and he was watching from far far away, as though his body was not his own.

With numb legs he stumbled toward one of the withering norn and carefully inspected him. “Can you hear me?”, Tivon asked, his own voice still only faint in his own ears. The norn grimaced in pain, half his face covered in a scorch mark that had burned off the skin. The beard the norn had grown so proudly around his chin was scorched and where it had once been braided remained only tangles and tufts of brown hair.

Along his journey Tivon preferred his own company and that of his companions. This had taught him a great deal about first aid, but even with this knowledge he knew there was little he could do for the norn. The wound would need to be cleaned, disinfected and then bandaged regularly in order to prevent an infection from settling in – and of all those procedures Tivon could do nothing but lift his eyes. “A medic!”, he yelled, but noticed that the roar of the chaos around him drowned his voice. “We need a medic over here!”

The norn suddenly lifted his hand, a calloused palm with scratch marks clutching tightly onto Tivon's leaf-covered arm. Tivon tried to read the norn's lips, _“Raven comes for me.”_ , the Norn choked, and Tivon realized that the norn's crystal blue eyes were staring somewhere over Tivon's head.

Vail descended down from above, wings fluttering and gentle brushing over Tivon's cheek as the raven landed. In its claws was a bundle and Tivon knew without even opening it what would be inside. “Pale Tree bless you, Vail.”, he said relieved and found exactly what he needed inside. A small glass bottle with clear, refined water, a clean cloth that smelled as though it had been pulled from a string out of the glowing sun, and a salve that Tivon recognized to be from an apothecary.

He tended to the norn's wounds diligently, ignoring the thrum of his own head that was a steady, growing pulse and ache. Vail watched with dark, intelligent eyes, and Tivon only looked up when he saw movement from the corner of his eyes.

It was Derry, the sun-colored streaked ferns almost gleaming in the orange glow of the burning effigy. Derry's tongue was out and the hound constantly turned his head back around toward a small asura that hurried after him. “Derry.”; Tivon marvelled when he realized that the asura carried a large medicine bag. As soon as the asura realized why the hound had lead him here he knelt down beside the norn and began to work, shaking his head in wonder.

“This one's yours?”, the asura asked as he pulled a bandage from his back and nodded toward Derry who brushed into Tivon's side and nestled his beautiful head against Tivon's chest in glee that his owner was alright. Tivon brushed over Derry's head and nodded only faintly, the motion making him nauseous.

“Yeah.”, he answered and smiled, pulled the hound closer to his body and pushed his face into the hound's leaves, smelled spring and dew and rain.

“He pranced around our office.”, the asura explained. “Made a ruckus and would not leave. We only figured out what he wanted when the effigy blew up.”

Tivon gave Derry a beaming smile and slowly stood on his feet. “Here, this will be of more use than to me, I figure.”, he murmured and gave the asura the small pouch. Pale grey eyes lifted mustered the pouch incredulously before they widened.

“Hey, that's ours.”, he grabbed the pouch and looked at Tivon in confusion. “How did you-”

But Tivon was already turning away. He was content that the act of thievery Vail had committed would be forgiven by the authorities, especially because it had been in the light of doing the right thing.

There was an ensemble of Lionguard ahead, the chaos had somewhat cleared and various vigil and priory members were attempting to extinguish the flames of the effigy that blazed high into the night air. Kiel was kneeling beside the charr whom Tivon had seen just prior to the explosion and he approached, still feeling wobbly and insecure on his own two feet.

“What happened?”, Tivon asked and Kiel looked up at him, her eyes stern and grim, but when she studied him her eyes widened.

“You are injured.”, she breathed and stood from where she had been kneeling, her hand lifting to his arm and gripping there more tightly than Tivon would have given her credit for. A misjudgement, to be sure, because he knew how well she fared in a sword-fight. Or shovels.

Her eyes were directed at the side of his head and he raised his hand toward the ferns. It pulsed and thrummed, but other than that he barely felt it. Probably shock, he mused. “I am fine.”, he waved it away with a gesture of his hand and she gave him a sceptical glare, but before she could say anything more a woman pushed through beside him. “I am a medic, I can help.”, she offered and Kiel lifted her hand from Tivon's arm.

“This charr is dead, any attempt to revive him have been unsuccessful.”, Kiel informed the medic and then turned toward Tivon once more. He could see the thoughts churning in her head. “The Lion's Arch council members are critical. We need to get them to safety.”, Kiel murmured. “I have my lionguard securing the perimeter, but we have found no sign of the culprit.”

“What exactly happened?”, Tivon asked again.

“When the effigy was supposed to be lighted there was an electromagnetic pulse. We are still searching for what and who caused it.”

“I saw the charr place down a capsule before the blast occurred.” Tivon remembered. He made a gesture with his hand to simulate its height and width. “It had a magitech glow.”

Kiel folded one arm over her chest, the other leaning atop and her forefinger resting curled against her lips. It was a common pose for her, one that made it apparent that she was processing and considering information and events. “It's something, at least.”, she murmured. “I'll keep it in mind, but our priority has to be to get the councilmen to safety.”

Tivon looked down at the bodies in dismay. “I am sorry.”

“You warned us.”, she soothed. “I am grateful for your help. This would have been a complete disaster if we had not been here.” The praise fell on deaf ears.

“Will they make it?”, Tivon asked.

“We don't know.”, Kiel murmured. “That only time can tell.” Her eyes wandered toward his head once more. “Go get some rest. We got it from here.”

Tivon nodded, still a little dazed, and felt Derry's ferns brush against his legs. The hound was looking up at him with pitiful eyes and Tivon scratched his ears as he slowly turned and walked away. “Glad you are alright.”, Tivon smiled at the hound. “Let's see if we can find a quiet place.”

He sought shelter along the shores of Lion's Arch, various caves and cliffs offering shelter from weather and onlookers. The path he walked barely registered in his mind, everything passing by in a blur. Each step his legs seemed to grow heavier and heavier, until he had to drag them through the sand. The headache was coming full-force now and Tivon grimaced when he lay down beneath an advance into soft grass and closed his eyes.

There was rustling beside his head and Derry gave him an urgent lick on his cheek and Tivon sighed. “Tired.”, he mumbled and felt his mind slipping into unconsciousness, but the respite did not last for very long.

He blinked his eyes open not long after, the darkness of the night still looming over him and his head felt heavier than ever before, his mouth was dry and the wound on his head pulsed to such an extent he wondered if it might explode.

There was a soft rustle and Tivon turned his head and frowned. He saw a figure kneeling beside him, a shadow that was starred and laced with white lines. A soft, warm hand touched his cheek and even though his mind was hazy and bleary he realized that he was not alone and in his panic raised his arm feebly to at least _try_ and put up some resistance, but the figure grasped his hand and chuckled.

“Relax, Tivon.”, the figure murmured and Tivon recognized the voice. “I told you it was dangerous, and what did you do? Stand in the front row.” There was tut. “You did not heed my warning very well.”

Tivon relaxed, the hand that gripped his wrist holding on for a second longer before releasing him. “Sorry.”, Tivon mumbled, and was not even sure what he was apologizing for. Perhaps he was apologizing because he had failed, but he felt too tired to think about that now.“They were hurt.”, Tivon continued and stared at the advance atop his head. “I couldn't...”

Silence drenched the atmosphere and the sylvari studied Tivon for a moment before he continued and placed a soft, wet cloth against the outer lines of the injury, cleaning away any sand and dirt the ranger had chosen to lie on. The injury had clearly impaired his decision making, the male mused.

There was a short moment in which Tivon exhaled steadily, and then did not inhale for a few agonizing seconds. The male stilled and watched, until he realized that Tivon was fighting with _something,_ perhaps his own guilt. The fight was evident in Tivon's body language, his clenched fists, his tense shoulders, face slightly contorted and then, finally, he took a deep breath that stuttered against his chest.

“You are injured.”, the voice over Tivon murmured. “Take it easy.”

Tivon felt the cloth pressed against the side of his head, and only then, ever so slowly, did he realize that the sylvari was tending to his wound, that he was being taken care of. Once again the world began to shrink, to magnify on this very moment, just a small part in the sum of all that occurred on the planet, and yet Tivon was focused on the _here_ and the _now._ A present that would not last – a moment would be fleeting just like all the others.

“You will leave again.”, Tivon murmured. It was the pattern. The very same, the very old. There was no answer – not that Tivon would have needed one. “Why are you helping me?” He forced his eyes open to stare hazily up at the figure above him.

“Why are you helping _them_?”, the sylvari asked quietly in return.

“Because I can.”, Tivon answered. “And you are avoiding the question.”

“You got me.”, the sylvari chuckled and finished with a smile, “I do what pleases me.”

There was a moment of silence in which Tivon processed the words. When he realized what that meant, in the now and here, he found no words to answer. “I...see.”, Tivon finally murmured, even though he was none the wiser. He had part of the equation, but not its solution. He wondered if he ever would find it.

Suddenly he felt air brush over his cheeks and something soft on his lips and his mind shut down the second it registered what it was and panic set in. He gasped surprised and opened his lips, heat flooded into his core when the pressure on his lips increased. His body tensed and he lifted his arms ever so fecklessly and felt two hands drive them back down against the ground. The sylvari tilted his head and deepened the kiss and Tivon's strength to resist was already drained – both by his state and the fact that the surge and spike of pleasure clouded his mind – and he found it hard to remember why he even should.

The lips were soft, sweet and pliant against his own, yielding and yet demanding. Before Tivon could react the pressure lessened and he glanced up at the sylvari with a frown and a startled expression, his mind catching up with what had happened.

“What in the...”, Tivon breathed in shock, felt the tingling on his lips still.

“That's payment.”, the sylvari replied with a dark smile and lifted his hand, stroked gently over Tivon's cheek and sent a shiver down his back. “Rest easy now, Tivon.”, the sylvari purred and somehow Tivon's eyelids grew heavy and laden. He fought the sleep that threatened to overwhelm him long enough to hear, “Come morning, you'll forget.” Darkness took him them and reality slipped from his fingertips.

  


When morning came Tivon blinked up against the cliffside that loomed over him, heard the rush of water in the distance and the gentle breathing of Derry beside him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, felt a faint throb from the side of his skull and raised his hand carefully to grope the wound.

He had dreamed. He remembered it vividly, for just a few seconds, images of the sylvari above him and he frowned as the memories slipped from his fingers like water.

As he still tried to bring back the memory of his dream the figure smiled knowingly from a distance.

  


Two days later an owl found him gazing over the wide sea and dropped a piece of parchment in his lap. The birds did not dare approach Tivon any more than was necessary because of Vail, and the Raven eyed the owl suspiciously as it flew off into the distance with hurried wing beats. Tivon opened it carefully.

_Tivon,_

_The situation has worsened. One of the Lion's Arch councillors, Theo Ashford, has succumbed to his wounds. The Lionguard is keeping the new quiet while the festival continues, but they're overwhelmed trying to maintain security in the city. At this very moment, a killer walks free, and this cannot be allowed._

_Go to Divinity's Reach, to the Eastern Commons. There, in a back alley bar called the Dead END, you'll find one of the best investigative minds in Tyria, Marjory Delaqua. She will need your help to find those behind the councillor's death. Tell her E sent you. Work with her, sift through the clues, and solve the crime._

_I will surely contact you again,_

— _E_

He stared at the letter in confusion. Who was E? And why did this person contact _him_ of all people? And how did this person know his name? With a sigh he folded the letter and let it sink into a small pocket at the side of his backpack. There were various ways for a stranger to contact him, and he wondered why the mysterious and secretive were drawn toward him.

Those news were disturbing and he wondered that perhaps it was for the best that he investigated. It was better than watching Kiel struggle to keep Lion's Arch under control after what had happened with the effigy, and especially because he could not aid her in any way whatsoever.

As he glazed over the horizon once more, than thin line between ocean and sky he found his resolve and rose to his feet. A trip was in his cards, it would seem.

  


Divinity's Reach was very much like he had thought it would be. Large, packed, _crammed_ even, every house squeezed against one another to create a stone wall that held the inhabitants of the city. No space was left unused and their attempts so create an illusion of nature by creating small rings of stone where small trees sprouted and vases that adorned the pathways and windowsills left something to be desired. How these humans could be content to live under a firm roof and four constricting walls Tivon couldn't tell. The smell was pleasant at times, and sometimes not. He could smell freshly baked bread, sweet perfume whenever a human female walked by in a gorgeous and adorned dress and in darkened corners and grimmer surroundings the smell turned into a stench of dirt and ash and urine – a fact Tivon did not want to have his mind wander on.

The further he waded below the more he realized that this part of the city was no home to any nobility. Children played openly on the paced streets that were cracked and torn open from many years of usage and too little maintenance, there small, frail arms throwing what looked like a small leather ball. Figures watched and waited in alleyways that were packed with wooden boxes that offered and allowed shelter from any eyes. Tivon's hand felt tense and he was ready to make a grab for his sword if such an action was required, and was glad to finally see the building that he had sought.

The eyes he felt on himself were uncomfortable and scrutinizing, but he reminded himself that he always felt watched. Ever since _the_ sylvari had told him that he would watch. That _he_ would be there. To be watched, to _know_ it, was something entirely different than _feeling_ it. The feeling itself could be wrong, but now that he _knew_ it made the sylvari real again.

Tivon was always torn. There was a voice in his head that was convinced that what was happening to him was neither normal nor should he be quite so intrigued, that instead he should be cautious, and then another that was too curious for its own good. He wondered briefly what Malomedis would say, but to have a strange figure following someone about – everywhere, _anywhere –_ that clearly would make the firstborn warn Tivon to be careful.

He _was_ being careful, he told himself. It did not make him paranoid to know that the sylvari was watching him, now that he knew a little more. Or at least that he knew that the sylvari was not a figure of his imagination.

As he approached the building his eyes glided over its outer appearance. It looked run-down just as every other part of this district. He wondered if he should knock on the dark oaken door or wait, but the decision was made for him when the door suddenly opened and a human female stepped out.

He was not quite what he had expected, but this had not been it. The woman had a cold glare in her dark eyes when her eyes met his own, her hair pulled up by a hair pin that was visible over the back of her head. Her skin was pale and she wore a black robe that fitted well against her body, but was not quite as revealing as some other human wear he had seen.

Like the one the woman behind her. A woman with a sparkling aura, beautiful beaming eyes and a gentle demeanour that made her look completely out of place. She wore a brilliant gold and white dress that emphasized her assets and curves almost effortlessly, and Tivon had to tear his eyes away.

The first woman, the one with the dark hair, gave him a credulous look and squinted her eyes. “You're showing an unnatural and unhealthy interest in my business. Is there something I can do for you?”, she asked, her voice level, but there was a danger laced in that tone. It was only then that Tivon noticed the weapon at her belt and that he had better not antagonize her. There was a powerful aura wafting off from her to even where he stood, and the only consolation was the blonde woman who tilted her head with a curious glance.

"E sent me to help.”, Tivon murmured and produced the letter and handed it to her. The dark haired woman grasped it with pale, long fingers, her smart eyes scanning over the document briefly.

“Is that so?”, she murmured as she read before she lifted her eyes. “I shouldn't be surprised. This isn't the first time he's provided what I needed before I even knew I needed it.”

It was a curious thing to say, Tivon found, but he was glad that whoever E was – the person had at least been right so far, and that the person had somehow gained this woman's favor. “Name's Tivon.”, he introduced himself. “And these are my companions, Vail and Derry.” Both made a quick noise, an introduction of sorts. Tail crowed and Derry gave a soft bark with a swish of his tail.

“Marjory Delaqua.”, the woman replied curtly, her eyes studying the animals carefully. “Looks like we're going to Lion's Arch, Tivon. You got any outstanding warrants there?”

“Not that I'm aware of. You?”

“Not yet.”, she said with a hint of a smile. “Tell you what. Introduce yourself to my friend over there, the blonde, while I get my anti-pirate spray.”

With a quick gesture she turned around and disappeared into the house once more. Tivon blinked a bit stupidly, wondering what an anti-pirate spray was. The blonde looked after her and then turned toward Tivon, a charming smile placing at her lips. She looked gentle and kind, so very much unlike Majory.

“Hello. You're here to assist with the investigation into the murder in Lion's Arch?”, she said as she stepped forward and Tivon found it hard not to stare at the soft movement of the dress she was wearing. “That's right. Name's Tivon, my lady.” She looked very much like nobility, the way she held herself. Her eyes were directed forward, not downward, her chest slightly lifted into the to straighten her posture, and in her step was a gentle yet firm quality that showed that she walked every step quite consciously.

“Pleased to meet you. By all means, call me Kasmeer.”, she smiled. “However did you know to come here?”

“Someone named E sent me.”, Tivon answered.

“Ah, the mysterious Mister E. I see. Well, your assistance will be more than welcome, I'm sure.”

“I hope so.”, Tivon answered with a charming smile of his own and noticed that her eyes remained on Derry for a few seconds when the hound squeezed closer to Tivon's leg and her gaze was contemplative. “He is a fern hound.”, he explained. “They are common pets around Caledon Forest and the Grove.”

“Ah.”, she made, as though she had been caught doing something embarrassing. “I am sorry for staring.”

“It's nothing.”, Tivon reassured her and scratched the top of Derry's neck and gave the hound a loving and tender look. “We are quite used to estranged glances, aren't we?” The hound raised its chin, a sign that it wanted to be scratched beneath and Tivon obliged with a chuckle.

Kasmeer was still staring with an unreadable gaze until finally Majory showed up again. “Found it.”, the woman said and shut the door with a final click. “Did you put it under the fishbones?”

“No.”, Kasmeer laughed. “You know I never tamper with your system.”

Majory shrugged. “Let's go before someone interferes with the crime-scene.”

“You were going to investigate?”, Tivon asked curiously as the three of them started walking back the way he had come. The two of them had already been on their way – it had only been coincidence that Tivon had met them at their doorstep.

“I have received a request to look into this particular matter. My benefactor is interested in whoever is responsible for the murder of Theo Ashford, and I am going to find out.”

“I was there when the effigy blew up, if you care for any witnesses, although I did not see what happened to Mister Ashford.”

“Well.”, Majory smiled, and somehow it looked wicked. “We have some time, and I would rather not waste it with chit-chat anyway. What did you see?”

Tivon told her all that had occurred, except for the sylvari. He never mentioned the male to anyone, did not even know how. _“I have this stranger, a male sylvari, following me about. He gave me the information that something was amiss.”_ Yes, that sounded trustworthy. It gnawed at Tivon that there was a mysterious figure in his life following him like a shadow, watching from the distance. Whenever he looked up toward dark corners he almost expected the sylvari to stand there, arms crossed and grinning nonchalantly, but of course he never was. It was driving Tivon slowly crazy, especially the fact that his dreams seemed to fill with the male as well.

Majory was quiet after he had told her what he knew, her eyes staring ahead, but it was evident that her mind was far away. As they approached the crime scene the Liongaurd had closed off the perimeter and Kiel gave Tivon and his new companions a strange glance.

“You look like you're in charge here.”, Majory adressed Kiel.

“You're smarter than you look.”, Kiel shot back, but there was barely any heat in it. Instead there was a growing smile on her lips.

“Hmph. So my mama always said.”, Majory murmured thoughtfully, apparently not taking to the cat-fight. “But I'm not here for witty banter, satisfying as that might be. I'm a private investigator from Divinity's Reach, and I want to offer you my services.”

“What could you possibly offer that the Lionguard doesn't already have covered?”, Kiel asked with a frown.

Marjory laughed. “That's a loaded question. Let me tell you about my Tassi box. I bought it off a snotty little asura. It can detect all manner of energy fluctuations. May I demonstrate?”

“Now, you've got me curious.”, Kiel grinned. “Of course, curiosity killed the cat. But go on. Show me.”

Marjory handed her the device. “Just press those buttons, and see what glows.”

“What does that glow mean?”, Kiel asked after trying it out on a charr body, another victim of the effigy incident.

“It means the dead charr recently came in contact with the arcane residue, and not while his life was passing before his eyes.”

“No kidding.”, Kiel grumbled.

“Not even if you ask nicely.”, Majory replied nonchalantly, and the glances the two women exchanged were filled with mirth. Tivon was glad there was no tension at all and that they appeared to get along.

“We've discovered that the energy discharge was definitely triggered on purpose, with evil intent. I've had everyone who was present questioned. Most were clearly innocent, so we sent them home. Those still here are suspects.”

“My instincts haven't failed me yet. Bringing the Tassi boxes was exactly the right thing to do. We have to test the remaining people. I've already tested you, so you've been cleared.”

“You...you have?”, Tivon asked a little surprised and Majory gave him a charming smile. He had been close to the blast, after all, so the Tassi-Box must have gone off on him, but since he had told Majory what had happened she must have already considered that it was from the blast itself – and not because he was involved in a notorious plan. Or, perhaps, it was her instinct that told her he was innocent.

Or she was simply putting the information out there that she knew he had been there and was keeping a close eye on him, and that made him nervous. Not because he was guilty, no. But because he had not told her about the sylvari, and he was sure that she would figure out that something did not quite add up if she had questioned him further.

“No offense. It's all part of the procedure.”

“None taken.”, Tivon shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, and cursed the fate that had forced him to meet the sylvari and be quite so secretive. “How can I help?”

“Stay pretty and stay sharp. If the Tassi box triggers, things might turn dirty. The box is designed to reveal auras, and I've programmed it to highlight residual energy. It's crudely programmed at the moment, but I can fine-tune the settings as we learn more.”

Kiel gave her a firm nod, a go for Majory's operation. She checked everyone, spoke to everyone, and Tivon watched her from the side, his eyes trailing over the various faces and people. It was hard to convict anyone of them, and Tivon wondered how they could even be sure that the culprit would remain here.

It had been chaos afterward, after all. There was no telling who had been here, who had gotten away, and who had stayed behind had had an evil intent.

Nobody seemed even the least bit suspicious. Annoyed, yes, by the many questions they had to answer continuously and time and time again, but that was a reaction Tivon could emphasize with.

“I beg your pardon.”, the woman kneeling beside a dead body said, clearly affronted at the strange object that was pointed right at her.

“Don't fret. You'll come to no harm-unless you had a hand in what happened.”, then Majory looked surprised. “Um. She's glowing. All right, lady. You better start talkin'.”

“What?”, the woman said flabbergasted. “I... swear. I had nothing to do with that tragedy. I'm an upstanding citizen.”

“Wait.”, Kiel intervened. “Could she have gotten it from the dead charr that glowed? She attempted to revive him.”

“Yes, yes. That must be it. I was only trying to help.”, the woman eagerly replied.

“Oh, disappointment.”, Majory sighed. “Well, you're one lucky little pirate, you are. Consider yourself exonerated.”

“Excuse the interruption, Investigator Kiel, but I have news. Five of the cultural representatives failed to report in.”, a lionguard suddenly interrupted and Kiel sighed.

“We'd better track them down. Ms. Delaqua, I'll contact you and your associates when we have something to investigate. Thanks for everything. We know that the charr representative was probably involved, but I wonder if he had accomplices.”

“It doesn't seem like a one-assassin job.” Tivon murmured thoughtfully.

“Agreed. We're still missing five of the cultural representatives who were here at the time. They ran off before we could stop them.”

“How can I help?”, Tivon asked and Kiel gave him a glance, her eyes trailing toward where the injury on the side of his head was slowly closing.

“Get some rest. Enjoy Dragon Bash. I'll be in touch as soon as we have a lead on the missing representatives.”

Tivon was disappointed, but did not want to fight her on this. If he insisted he would only seem desperate, and perhaps there were other pieces he could puzzle together with Majory and Kasmeer.

“I'll watch for your missive.”, he nodded toward her and she waved and was off.

As soon as Kiel was out of sight Majory grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. Her grip was firm and cold and Tivon blinked at her in surprise, but he felt no danger at all. Only urgency.

“I have spoken with the Lionguard and found out who the missing suspects are. I'd love to get lost in this mystery, but I must remain in Lion's Arch so I do not arouse suspicion. Private Detectives are not very well liked and appreciated.”, she sighed dramatically. “I've been examining the clues already covered. The Tassi box uncovered trace elements with magical properties. I'm not sure yet, but my guess us that these components formed a compound that turned the effigy into a deathtrap.”

Tivon nodded. He remembered what the male Sylvari had told him, and wondered if he had known the extent of the 'threats'. Would the male have intervened? Why hadn't he? Tivon had been so close to being a victim himself. He still remembered the blast, the dizziness and the faded sound especially. And there, faintly, was a memory of darkness, light streaks of shadow and the rushing of water.

“I need someone who can travel to interrogate the suspects. I barely know you, but your reputation precedes you. Will you be my legs and ears on the ground? Do what you can to convince these suspects to return to Lion's Arch, and take good notes if they say anything.”

The urgency in her voice was overwhelming and Tivon nodded slowly. “Of course. You can count on me. Are there any hints that I can work with?”

Majory smiled at him and began scribbling something on a small piece of paper. It took a few minutes until she handed it to him together with the Tassi box and he studied what was written on the piece of paper.

_\- footprints from the ogre suspect Vorrk leaving the crime scene in Lion's Arch. Follow them.  
\- Reports indicate that Morraloo, the quaggan suspect, is in Bloodtide Coast in the Sorrowful Sound._

_\- The skritt suspect, Kaspark, was sighted in Gendarran Fields near Almuten Estates._

_-The kodan suspect, Trembling Song, has been spotted in Snowden Drifts at the Lost Child's Sorrow camp.  
\- Unsubstantiated rumors place our sylvari suspect, Astorra, hiding out in Caledon Forest in the Rowanwoods. _

  


Tivon gave a curt nod. There quite a few locations he had never visited before, but he was convinced that he could do what was asked of him. “Be wary, trust your instincts, and stay alive.”, Majory told him in a low whisper.

“I'll head out immediately.”, he murmured, memorizing the locations before he glanced up at the two women. “Majory, Kasmeer.”

The two smiled after him when he beckoned for Derry to follow him, and the figure watching from a distance squinted its eyes.

  


He felt like he was going behind Kiel's back, especially because she had told him to rest, but how could he? He had had a chance to prevent this, and he had failed to do so. He felt it was his duty to at least uncover who was behind this – and revelled in the fact that Majory seemed to trust him even though they were strangers.

It was very much like the time he had met Braham and Rox and he wondered how those two were faring. Time had passed by, but he was sure he would see them again. If fate did not make their paths cross, Tivon would simply take it into his own hands to see them again. He missed the easy atmosphere that had been around those two, and wondered if they would get along with Majory and Kasmeer.

Kasmeer was sweet and gentle and Tivon had no trouble imagining them getting along, and he pictured Majory making somewhat inappropriate jokes that Braham would laugh about. Yeah, Tivon thought happily, they would get along fine.

As he wandered over the many locations that Majory had given him he slowly uncovered what he could – and learned that Majory's instinct had been on point. He found the dead Ogre's body not far from where his footprints had been seen, and the Tassi Box reacted when he searched the body. He took his notes and was off, not before offering a small moment of solemnity for the death of the ogre – whatever had caused it.

  


“You aren't shiny. You smell like sea. Good smell. Shiny man gave me shiny for big party. Said they give other skritt a long vacation. That was nice.”, the Skirrt murmured in the skritt-fashion, skittish and hasty and somewhat distracted.

“You need to return to Lion's Arch for questioning.”, Tivon urged.

“NO! Big noise! Screams. Very scary. Didn't know what to do. Felt guilty. Will stay out here. Safe, yes.”

Tivon was not sure if this would work, but...”Are you sure?”, he asked. “There are quite a lot of shiny things back in Lion's Arch.”

The skritts eyes widened and sparkled at the word. “Really? Okay. Back to Lion's Arch we go. Toodle-doo.”

Tivon could only stare after the skritt with a chuckle and shook his head. He had expected this strategy to work on an infant or a small child perhaps, but not on a skritt. That was definitely something he would keep in mind.

  


“Please, don't hurt quaggan or quaggan's tadpoles.”, the Quaggan begged when Tivon finally caught up with the small creature. “Quaggan just did what quaggan was told. They threatened quaggan's nursery. Said quaggan's tads would be fed to krait! Quaggan had to carry their offering to the effigy.”

“You must return to Lion's Arch for questioning.”

“The pastkeeper heard about quaggan's kelp gathering record, and thought quaggan was a hero. Quaggan was named the representative. The Dragon Bash was the worst day of quaggan's life.”, the Quaggan looked frightened and lost, and Tivon felt sympathy for the creature. He crouched low to be on the same eye-level.

“It takes courage to defend tadpoles like that. You can do this.”, Tivon encouraged and the Quaggan studied him for a few moments before he slowly nodded.

“Quaggan thinks you're exaggerating, but quaggan understands and will come to Lion's Arch.”

Tivon smiled. “You are braver than you think, my friend. Have courage. The truth will reveal itself eventually.”

The quaggan nodded again and waddled off, and Tivon rose to his feet and stared after the Quaggen with a feeling of having done the right thing.

  


There was something greatly respectable about the Kodan. Their patient and rumbling voices made it easy for them to sway bypassers to listen to their philosophy, and they shared their beliefs willingly with those who did, but they also accepted those others around them. They did not force themselves upon anybody. It was this respectable quality that made the Koda's statement cut deep.

“Are you Koda's judgement, come at last?”, the Kodan murmured and gazed at him with knowing eyes. “I'm ready to surrender my blood and spirit to you. My shame is my shadow. I caused a death, by breaking a vow. Now I must give up my own life to pay for it, either by my own hand or by Koda's will.”

“Tell me your tale.”, Tivon asked of him, and the Kodan obliged.

“I was chosen by my brethren to take the long walk from Frostgorge Sound to Lion's Arch to be part of the ceremony. I passed a camp where friendly folk beckoned me to warm myself by their campfire. I should have not given in to temptation. While I slept by the fire, they must have tampered with my race's offering for the effigy burning. If I hadn't stopped, I would have had no part in the death and destruction.”

“I believe you.”, Tivon said. “Come to Lion's Arch and plead your case.”

Slowly the Kodan nodded thoughtfully. “It would seem that Koda has sent you. I hear your words, and I abide them. I will see you in Lion's Arch. ” The Kodan sighed and then set off on his journey, and Tivon had no choice but to stare after him until he disappeared.

  


Finding Astorra was a bit harder. She evaded his search for a good half a day before Derry finally managed to pin her down and she cast the fern hound a loathing stare before she lifted her gaze toward Tivon.

“You're not here to kill me, that's obvious. And you're not a Lionguard. You found me all the way out here, so you're good at what you do. Tell me, who are you?”

“I need you to come to Lion's Arch for questioning.”

“I didn't kill anyone, and I'm not setting one manicured toe back in the city without a good reason. I was set up.”

Tivon frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“They made me a deal: be on the stage or face the police. I used my wiles to get the representative spot, and my partners gave me a trinket to burn in the effigy. So, they'll toss me in jail.”

“Lion's Arch needs you. Stand up for justice and return to give your testimony.”, Tivon urged her and was startled when she broke into hysterical laughter.

“By the Mother, you're serious.”, she gasped in between her laughter when she saw his face and slowly her laughter died down. “Doing the right thing will leave you alone, poor, and dead. But all right, I'll come back.”

He wondered what she had experienced to say such things, but did not want to dwell on it. There were many ruthless evils in this world, and some even beyond his imagination. He watched her form slowly disappear toward the Grove and from there to the portal of Lion's Arch and scratched his neck.

It had been quite a long time since he had been home. It felt longer than it actually was and his eyes drifted over the familiar growth all around him, the various plants and bushes growing at the sides of the road, small lamps formed like blossoms that glowed when the daylight waned.

The road was not even properly paved, simply the earthy ground unravelled by many feet that travelled the very same road. His eyes turned toward the glade in the distance, remained on the waterfall and he gave Derry a glance. “Wanna race?”

The hound darted forward and of course Tivon had no chance in a race, but to see the excitement in the hounds features was always enough for him. Once his feet splashed through the water and he slowly came to a halt Derry was already jumping up and down and Tivon grasped the small Karka from beneath his shawl and carefully sat down in the sand and placed the Karka in his lap.

He inspected the Karka's shell carefully. It had experienced another growth spurt and would shed its skin soon, Tivon knew. If he had not already experienced it a couple of times it would probably unnerve him, but this time he was actually eager. “Ready yet?”, he asked the Karka and it chirped in response, made a few movements that Tivon interpreted as it trying to get toward the water and he did not hold the karka back. He sat it down carefully and it hurried toward the water on its still strangely proportioned legs and disappeared beneath the waves.

Tivon stared after it with a smile, saw its shell glimmering even beneath the surface of water when a voice behind him startled him and he turned around in alarm. “Hello.” Tivon's eyes fixed on the charcoal skin first, the face and eyes second. The male sylvari stared down at him. “Did I scare you?”

“I-”, Tivon stuttered and rose to his feet clumsily, scattering sand to the sides. “How do you do that?”

The sylvari tilted his beautiful head and the ferns shifted, and Tivon could see the sylvari's ear that was shaped like a calla lilly peeking out beneath. The more details Tivon found – be it the pattern just below the ear painted against the sylvari's neck to disappear over his shoulder, or the fact that the bark was smooth and perfect across his whole face with no blemish at all – they captivated him.

Perhaps, Tivon thought when he gulped, it was the mystery the sylvari posed that was alluring and somewhat enticing. The fact that he did not know something, the fact that it seemed like he could – if only he trained himself in patience.

If his body did not betray him in such a manner. Once again it was only the stare – they were still a good meter apart, yet he felt nervous, anxious, giddy, even.

“Do what?”, the sylvari asked obliviously and his eyes trailed over the curve of Tivon's bow, stilling to take in the design. It was of simple make, a weapon quickly created for efficiency, and yet there was something graceful about the wood had been chipped into such a weapon.

“That.”, Tivon answered and gestured toward where the sylvari stood. “Just...appear.”

The sylvari chuckled, a low dark sound that resonated within his chest. “I have told you.”, the male shrugged. “I tread where I want.”

“Nobody else can sneak up on me.”, Tivon said, and only then realized the admission he had made.

“And if they could, I would not let them.”, the sylvari answered in an even tone, the eyes staring out toward the small glade where Derry was making a loud noise while splashing about.

There was a moment of silence Tivon took the words in, and a fondness bloomed in his chest like a flower greeting the sun for the very first time. He did not know how to reply, and so he asked in a quiet voice instead, “Why are you here?”

“Why are you?”

“That...you are not supposed to answer a question with a question.”, Tivon had meant to sound annoyed, at least a bit frustrated, but it came out weak and feeble, and he realized that he did not have that kind of emotion in him to respond in such a way.

“And thusly, we have both avoided the question.”, the sylvari remarked, that faint smile never leaving his lips and his eyes trailing back to meet Tivons.

“Is there any question of mine you will answer?”, Tivon asked.

“Does this one count?”

Tivon shook his head and chuckled as well. “Well, yes, I suppose it does.”

“Ask away. I will be truthful as can be – and it will be your vigil to listen.”

That certainly was a strange thing to say and Tivon felt as though he had only one question that he could ask. “Can you tell me your name?”

The sylvari studied him for a moment, and only when Tivon glanced at his lips did he notice that the smile had faded. The expression was thoughtful, forlorn, a bit melancholic even. “What would you do if I told you I would disappear if I did?”

Tivon's thought processes stuttered to a halt. Everything seemed slowed down and his feelings swirled, and ever so slowly the gears in his head churned. This sylvari, the male, disappear?

His chest felt tight and constricted at the thought, that he would loose him, whoever he truly was. That the mystery, the enigma of a ghost and phantom would be over. That the desire in Tivon's heart to know him would never be fulfilled. Was it not a conundrum then that he never could? That even if he knew everything, he would never have a _name_?

The seconds passed, lengthy and stifling and Tivon remembered the day he had seen the sylvari for the first time, bathing in those waters, captivating and mesmerizing, how he had felt, as though the world had drawn down into a magnifying lens to spotlight that very moment.

Tivon did not want to miss that feeling of mystery. Did not want that warmth that spread from his chest go away when he thought of him. He wanted to know what it meant. Wanted to explore, to see, to marvel at what could be.

His fingers fidgeted with a small leaf on his thigh and he averted his eyes. “Then don't tell me.”, he all but whispered. It was another admission – his second one today – and this time, it meant that he did not want the male to leave.

“You will regret that decision.” , the male replied, the tone laced with dejection and Tivon felt the eyes searching for contact with his own, but the heat was rushing to his head and making it hard to think. If Levvi was here, she'd tell everyone how flustered he looked.

“That will be for me to decide.”, Tivon blurted out.

From the periphery of his vision Tivon saw the male give a small, thoughtful nod. “It will, indeed.”, he murmured. There was a crow above their heads and they both looked up towards Vail, circling and slowly lowering until Tivon raised his arm and the Raven found purchase there, its dark, small eyes glaring at the sylvari.

“I am sorry.”, Tivon apologized and caressed the raven's head gently as he spoke with his other hand. “He gets jealous easily.”

“I would be, too.”, the male grinned and Tivon once again had no words to answer, but his body did with a wave of heat that rushed even into his ears. The sylvari raised his hand carefully, but Vail eyed it as though the sylvari had ripped out a precious white feather and crowed defiantly, making him retreat his hand. “Your instincts chose this raven.”, the sylvari said thoughtfully. “I would trust them, if I were you.”

“They did not save me from going into Canach's lair.”, Tivon shrugged.

There was an unreadable gaze in the sylvari's eyes and then, suddenly, he tuned his head as though startled and stared into the distance. Tivon followed his gaze and could not see any sign of danger, had not even heard a sound. The gaze drifted toward the large hills in the distance, hidden behind ferns and various vegetation that grew over the path.

“Is something wrong?”, Tivon asked.

“Lion's Arch.”, the sylvari murmured and then looked at Tivon. “You must return.”

“What?”, Tivon blinked in confusion.

“The gears are in motion. You must go.”

Tivon wanted to ask more, to stay, but the syvlari's stare was intense, so honest and _bare_ that Tivon had no choice but to act. Reluctantly he whistled and Derry immediately charged toward him, pelt dripping wet with water that drenched the sand beneath him, the small Karka gently caught between his teeth.

It took Tivon barely a second to put the Karka onto his shoulder, throw the shawl over his neck and to make the first steps before he turned around. “Will I see you again?”, he asked, even though he knew the answer.

The male smiled. “Certainly.”

Even though Tivon had known what the answer would be; to hear it was greater elevation that his mind could ever provide and he smiled broadly before he dashed over the path toward the Grove.

  


(1) That crumbled letter is the first letter E sends to the player.

 


	6. Sky Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say, peeps! I have to admit I am dying to write other parts of the story, such as the development between Tivon and our mysterious sylvari and finally bringing back Sgileas, and the anticipation is killing me to work my way up toward it. It's like that donut hanging by a thread over your head while you are doing situps, and you Just. can't. REACH.  
> Am I making sense? No matter. Enjoy! :D

Once again the mysterious sylvari had been right. When Tivon reached Lion's Arch it was just in time: Strange dark, electric Airships hummed in the clear blue sky above and he could see Lionguard attempting to bring them from the sky with siege weaponry - with very little success. Smoke rose in dark clouds like a thick, black veil into the sky, flames devouring parts of the wooden pier and buildings. The magitech airships were retreating at a fast pace and Tivon arrived jogging on his bare feet, searching for Kiel among the masses once his eyes had trailed over the damage that, quite evidently, had been caused by whatever those airships were.

Kiel looked grim, disgruntled even, and ready to curse out loud judging from her features that were turned into a snarl. “Kiel.”, he said, bringing her attention and dark eyes to snap toward him. Her entire body was tense, shoulders pulled up and forward slightly, her knuckles pale from the grip she had on her steel sword.

“Tivon.”, she greeted him and visibly relaxed. “It's good you are here. That blasted Mai Trin got away.”

“Mai Trin?”, Tivon frowned, the name not ringing any bells in his head. “What happened here?”

“The representatives returned to Lion's Arch – for whatever reason I do not know”, Tivon tried very hard to keep his face straight as not to give anything away, “– and when they told us they had been blackmailed and forced to tamper with the effigy ceremony we found out that the culprit was Mai Trin – the healer that allegedly tried to revive the charr representative.”

“Ah.”, Tivon made, the pieces slowly falling together. “And those are...?”, Tivon asked and gestured with a movement of his chin toward the airships that disappeared in the distance, now barely larger than his thumb.

“Something called Aetherblade Pirates, apparently.”, Kiel grumbled and finally sheathed her sword with a clank now that the immediate danger had passed. “Nasty bunch. They work with all sorts of electrostatic fields and shields. We will have to find their hideout – and soon. I've got diplomats breathing down my neck.”

“Same old, isn't it?”, Tivon smiled at her and coaxed a curl of her lips, reminded of their time in Southsun Cove where the situation had pressed them to keep the inhabitants of the island to slaughter the Consortium representatives, the tension so high it had been palpable in the very air they had breathed.

“Just like Southsun.”, she remembered and shifted onto her left leg with a slight swing of her hip, hand resting idly on the hilt of her sword. Her brown tunic shifted slightly and beneath she wore a long-sleeved white undershirt that was wide on her wrists, allowing and offering mobility. With a thoughtful glance she mustered him, and he knew that look. It was the look she gave him just before she had a job for him to do, considering the options in her head.“You think you can track them down?”

“Ships as large as that?”, Tivon laughed with no derision at all. “No problem. But that is not what I would worry about, Kiel. I am sure they are a feint to divert our focus. A big target is a wonderful distraction.”

She blinked at him and then realization dawned upon her features when she understood what he meant. “You might be right. After all we could easily follow the trail of those air-ships, and we will – but that means we need to look somewhere else. But where?” The last she said with her eyes averted, hand lifted toward her chin and pulling her eyebrows into a thoughtful frown.

“If my instincts are correct, then exactly where we would never expect them to be.” Tivon said and his eyes glided over to where the ship were nothing but dark beads against the blue, clear sky. “Right here, in Lion's Arch.”

“Here?”, Kiel asked with a start. “Where could they hide such a base right under our nose?”

“That's what I'll go and find out.”, Tivon smiled. “I'll let you know once I find something.”

“We will track down those airships in the meantime.”, Kiel nodded in agreement and Tivon waved once with a movement of his arm and then jogged off, a slight bounce in his every step. Tivon barely noticed the city passing by in a blur of colors and smears. He was entirely focused on the task ahead, coerce his brain to try and think like the enemy, trying to put the pieces together. He jumped down from the pier nimbly onto the sand and felt it coarse underneath his soles and between his toes. A smile spread over his lips when Derry landed beside him and kept up with trained ease and Vail was right over his head, following his lead. The small Karka atop his shoulder pinched him when it clung onto his shoulder harder, but he did not mind.

He felt elevated, his heart at ease and beating free as the wind rushed past and over his ferns – and when he recalled that the sylvari was watching his smile grew wider.

If this was happiness, Tivon never wanted it to end.

  


After hours of searching he found what he was looking for right beneath the waterfall at Diverse Ledges. He watched, just to be sure, but there it was: A concealed entrance that looked very much like a stone wall, but the many hours he had crouched, still and quiet as the solemn, cool stone itself, he had seen the fluctuations of the invisible barrier in the distance. After he informed Kiel of his findings Kiel immediately agreed to storm the place – and Tivon was eager to assist.

“Let's get going.”, Kiel murmured after she pulled some water from her drenched hair. They had had to swim here through a cavern filled with water ice cold, but what had been worse had been the explosives swimming in the darkness that nobody had anticipated. Those caught unaware had been pulverized into a fine, red mist and it had brought Tivon back from the mirth that made his heart so joyful – just so that he would remember that they were about to take down a pirate base and that this was no easy nor laughing matter. He had stared at the lumps of flesh drifting in the darkness, a silent horror settling down into his body that mixed with fear and anxiety.

The caves twisted and turned, but it was clear from the footprints in the muddy ground that this area was patrolled regularly and that they could encounter resistance, if the Aetherblade Pirates had not already been alerted by the traps they had sprung on their way. “I'll take the lead.”, Tivon murmured when they came toward a sharp bend that offered no sight or warning what may lie ahead. With care he approached it in a crouch that made his steps slow and silent and looked around the corner, saw that various wooden barricades had been build just a few meters ahead that made up a small doorway. They looked hardly secure and rather built for functionality rather than lasting effect.

The Aetherblade ahead in the next room had not noticed him yet and he approached what looked like a wooden gate with care and stayed in the shadows, Derry clinging to his heels with every step, ferns brushing soothingly over his calves. With deft hands Tivon pulled strings from his belt pouch, gripped some darts and pushed them between his teeth, pulled a vial of poison and then, cautiously and vigilantly, poured it over the darts. The work was slow, but entirely worth all the preparation. With special care Tivon pushed the darts into the ground just at the entrance, carefully assessing his position so that he remained undiscovered. As a last touch he added a tripwire and tested the string carefully, pulling it gently and carefully until it was bound so tight that it would surely catch some feet unawares. Satisfied he stealthily made his way back to Kiel.

“There are Aetherblades ahead.”, Tivon told her and noticed that she and the Lionguard looked apprehensive and anxious, and knew that he had taken quite a lot of time to prepare, but it was best to be cautious, especially in the face of an enemy they did not yet know. “I've prepared traps the only passage way through. We can lure some of them toward us.”

“Smart.”, Kiel grinned. “Let's do it.”

It was easy and according to plan: Tivon took a shot at the Aetherblades, took an unsuspecting one down with an arrow through his throat before a group of them was already charging toward him. The small passage forced them to walk one after another, and as the first tripped over the trap the others only followed, and from there Kiel and her Lionguard finished to do the rest.

A small wooden plank lead upwards and as Kiel made her way over the wooden bridges she jumped back in surprise and Tivon saw an electric field sparkling to life, crackling loudly in the air. “Ow.”, Kiel grumbled and rubbed her arm. “It shocked me.”

“Glad it didn't fry you.”, Tivon murmured and noticed that the fields were arranged in a pattern and that when one pattern was on, the other was not. Behind the bridge was a small control station and Tivon formed a plan in his head. “Vail, wait for me on the other side.”

The raven crowed and took to the air and flew to the other side – naturally without any problems at all. Derry lifted his eyes to look up at Tivon and give him a questioning glance, but Tivon shook his head. “Stay with Kiel. I got this.”

“You do?”, Kiel asked and did not have time to protest when Tivon suddenly jumped forward. His naked feet easily found purchase on the wood and he balanced between the line of life and death as the fields sparkled around him, sizzling and vibrating in the air. Kiel's protest became a rasped gasp, but she did not dare distract him.

He stood rooted, waited patiently, calculating and tense, before he jumped to the next small intersection, continued this process until finally he reached the other side. He could feel the sweat on his back, not necessarily from exertion, but rather the feeling of being quite too close to danger for his liking. The platforms sizzled behind him loudly and made the air grow stifling and hot, but he was already trying to determine which switch would result in the fields to deactivate when suddenly Vail gave a loud crow in warning and Tivon lifted his head.

He made a surprised noise, turned his body to the side with a slight bent of his back and saw a small ice dart pass by an inch away of his face and land in the wall behind him with a _thwack_ where it burst into a field of ice that spread cool even into the air. Tivon ducked away behind the console and took his bow from his shoulders in one, smooth motion, heard Vail crowing loudly and the attacker yelping in surprise.

With two arrows in his fingers Tivon rose from behind the console and put the first arrow in the string and took his shot – and landed his mark perfectly. The arrow shot the small asura right through the heart and the asura gasped, grasping his strange gun tighter, stilled and then fell backwards onto the wooden plank with a _thud_ where the weapon clattered onto the floor.

Vail landed on Tivon's shoulder and crowed proudly and Tivon patted the raven's head. “Well done.”, he praised and finally pulled the lever to let Kiel and her lionguard across.

Killing the Aetherblades with a dose of ambush and lure was working well enough – until Tivon and Kiel reached a large wall that was translucent to a certain degree. It looked like a wall made from water, but was firm to the touch. A console was the only way in and Kiel gave it a glance.

“This security panels easy enough.”, she murmured and lifted her eyes to look at Tivon. “Are you ready to breach the room?”

“Let's do this.”, Tivon nodded and gripped his bow tighter, knocked in an arrow and stepped inside the second the wall dropped, knees slightly bent and body wound up like a string, ready to jump away if necessary. His eyes glanced around the round room and he noticed that it looked nothing like the rest of the Aetherblade hideout – it looked like an inquest laboratory. Various panels covered the side, small wooden boxed had been carelessly stacked as if it was still unpacked and under construction. Pipes formed twisting patterns over their heads like snakes on the ceiling, some emitting steam that evaporated in thin air with a hissing noise.

“This is a sterile research environment.”, a small asura said as he marched toward them, Aetherblade's at his sides and a gun clutched into his two, overlarge hands, barrel directed at them. “Leave at once.”

“We are the Lionguard. Surrender or be killed.”, Kiel warned and the small asura laughed a shrill, heady laugh that made Tivon's ferns bristle and Derry growled, flattening his ears closer to his head and barring a row of sharp teeth.

“Very well. I have a way to deal with contaminants.” There was a flash of blue, a sizzle and bang in the air and suddenly the asura was gone with an electrostatic discharge, transported into the very middle of a large cylinder that was made from the very same translucent material as the door, a shield that blinked with a furious red color and distorted the sight of the figure inside.

Tivon gripped his bow tighter and a hum filled the air, charging and rising like a swarm of angry bees, the sound of a system starting up and the rumbling of the ground made him take a step back. The Aetherblades did not even atttack them – they stared disbelievingly at the asura that was hidden away in the cylinder and a nervous, nauseating feeling settled in Tivon's stomach. The noise grew and grew, he felt that if he grew any more tense he would be able to climb the ceiling when he saw the energy fluctuating around the cylinder, collecting, gathering in a stream of blue and then discharged, a blue, sizzling stream shooting out toward the wall with a static noise. Tivon barely managed to grip Kiel that gasped beside him and pulled her to the ground, the buzzing of the beam vibrating and sizzling above their heads with intense heat, the static discharging and making his skin prickle.

He lifted his head and saw the beam of blue light drifting over his head in a circular motion around the cylinder in the middle. “Stay down!”, he told Kiel that held her hands over her head protectively over the noise and he jumped to his feet, saw that some Lionguard had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the beam.

Their bodies were mangled messes on the ground, the blood oozing from beneath and painting the floor in small puddles of red as their bodies had been torn and cut in halves. Vail crowed in frustration, the claws of the raven scratching uselessly against the cylinders outer shell. Tivon saw the pattern of the beam, moving in a certain velocity and intensity and jumped atop a pair of boxes that shifted dangerously beneath him until he caught his balance and gripped his bow, knocked in an arrow and took aim at the asura.

His arrow wheezed through the air and shattered against the outer part of the cylinder with a clatter, the boxes beneath him warming dangerously and flaring when the beam passed through, catching fire from the scorched wood. “You're vandalizing precious equipment. Why don't you play with live wires?”, the asura asked with a sneer and Tivon grit his teeth. How was he to stop this carousel of death? The panels were all but fried, sparkling and discharging dangerously as the beam continously spun through them, rendering them ineffective. There was no way he could access them, not now when they were fried. The boxed beneath him burst into flame and he jumped onto the ground, feet slapping as he landed and circled in time with the beam around the cylinder, eyes narrowed and body tense as his thoughts churned, when suddenly he heard movement behind him, a metallic shift and a heavy thump on the floor that made everything vibrate.

He turned his head just in time to see a golem climb from a container that had opened in the wall and lift it's giant arm, a fist directed at Tivon, and with wide eyes he reflexively ducked as the golem's fist punched into the air above his head and retracted with a clicking noise.

 _Wonderful_ , Tivon thought. _Just wonderful._

It trudged toward him with thundering steps, a shield jumping to life when the beam passed through and it left the golem, much to Tivon's dismay, unharmed and even more empowered with a static that charged and skittered over the golems shell. Tivon jumped out of the way when its fist extended toward him once more and it crashed into the wall behind him, ripping out panels and pipes that released some sort of gas with a hissing noise into the air.

Quickly he circled around and lodged an arrow into the golems neck with a _thwack_ , but of course the machine was not deterred and sauntered toward him with thundering steps. Tivon's eyes glided over its outer magitech shell to look for a weak spot, perhaps a way to disable the shield and his eyes found a small glowing panel on the golems chest.

The golem raised its arms to the side as it marched toward him and then began to spin, the upper body rotating and gaining speed and Tivon was forced back, the beam coming around once again with a loud, scorching sizzle that he could feel on his skin as heat, the spin forcing him back against the wall and trapping him in between.

He jumped up at the wall, his foot finding purchase on a small protruding panel and jumped even higher toward the ceiling from there, free hand grasping and clinging to a pipe that winded over his head and barely raised his feet as the beam glided through beneath him and the golem spun beneath, arms crashing with a metallic screech into the wall. Tivon thrust his legs above the pipe and flexed them around the metal, let go with his free hand and gripped an arrow from his quiver, his body swinging downward as he drew his bow, his vision blurring slightly as his body swung back and forth and when his eyes focussed on the golem below that was now upside down he aimed mid swing, but the arrow barely missed the mark and latched itself into a small crevice in the golems padding beside the glowing panel.

He cursed and lifted his free hand, held on to the pipe and brought his legs free, swung forward from the momentum and landed safely on the ground with a _tap_ , the beam only just coming around with its sizzling, crushing noise and Tivon ducked as the golems fist crashed into the cylinder, making the shield stutter but hold. Abruptly the golem suddenly stopped to focus on Tivon entirely and there was a loud, frustrated crow and Vail's sharp talons pierced into the panel that Tivon had tried to aim for.

The golem made a strangled metallic noise and Vail flapped up high and away, and when the beam came around one more time the golem had no shield to protect it and was cut in half. Wires sparkled, ignited and the golem charged, stuttered and then _exploded_ , the boom rippling through the air and blasting Tivon back.

He flew in the air for a moment and crashed against the wall, his back taking the brunt of it. Pain surged through him, dull and pulsing, but he forced himself onto his feet and shook away the dizziness, noticed that the cylinder containment holding the asura was stuttering and failing, the shield breaking apart. The asura looked ready to explode himself with his large head turning a shade darker around the cheeks and lifted a large, fat finger at Tivon.

“You think you've won? You've won nothing! Tremble and cry as I unleash my greatest-“

The protection failed, the shield broke down with a stumbling, electric noise and from atop came metallic rings that crashed atop the asuras head and squished him beneath. Thankfully the thump of the metal meeting the floor was loud enough that Tivon heard no bones break, nor did he see any blood splatter, and Kiel rose from the ground and dusted off her armor with clear disgust for the asura that was now flattened beneath all that metal.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate those grubby little Inquest?”, she grumbled and Tivon wanted to smile, but the fact that these Inquest had taken down so many Lionguard that now lay dead around them put a stopped to the rise of the corners of his mouth.

“I understand why.”, Tivon murmured grimly, remembered from the Dream that the sylvari had met the asura quite unexpectedly after the Secondborn had awakened– and the asura had exploited the sylvari's natural curiosity and had trapped, captured and experimented on them. Some of them had been scarred for life from that experience, and it left Tivon with a mixture of boiling rage that was only dampened because he _knew_ that not every asura was like this, that a race could not be damned for the effort of the few.

“Are you alright?”, Kiel asekd and studied him with a worried expression. “You took this on all by yourself.”

Tivon shrugged his sagged shoulders. “I am fine.”

Although it was quite obvious that he _wasn't_ Kiel did not press, and Tivon was glad that all she did was raise a hand and place it upon his arm and he placed his own hand atop, a gesture of warmth and comfort among friends, and in this moment of bitter loss it was grounding. “Let's snuff these pirates out.”, Kiel said, and her words managed to awaken his drive and purpose. “For good.”

Tivon nodded and followed her, his eyes darting over the Liongaurd that remained. Barely a dozen had made it, the others lay in a pool of their own blood that drenched the inquest lab never to see sunlight ever again.

They progressed through the Aetherblade base in a blur, Tivon's mind focussed and distracted at the same time, but it did nothing to impair his aim. It was only when they advanced far enough to meet Mai Trin and her First Mate that Tivon realized that they had found the culprits, that this human female was somehow responsible for the disaster at the Dragon Bash, that she had disturbed a memorial for those that had died, the celebration of a united Tyria against the dragons. Why? Why would anybody disturb their celebration of a victory well earned? Smudge and taint the memory of all those that had fallen?

The anger flared beneath his skin and he took a serrated breath to calm himself, focussed instead on the environment. The room ahead was not a room per say, it was open to the side where a large cliff loomed, and far, far below was water that gushed against the rocks beneath. Two barriers separated them from Mai Trin and through the vivid blue material that swam before his eyes he could barely make out her form, but her voice was clear.

“This has all gone to crud. Scarlet's gonna have my noggin for screwing up.”, Mai Trin was saying.

“What now, Captain? It'll take cannonballs to get out of here alive.”, the big Norn asked.

“Either way, I'm dead, so let's wind our springs and ride this escapement to the end. “

“You got it. I'll undock the airships.”

“You and your brothers give good battle, old friend. Now, let's dig in before they show. I'll raise the gangplanks.”

“Go, now!”, Kiel ordered and Tivon pressed the button on the panel, took down the last barrier and it stuttered shortly before it disappeared, offering clear view of their targets. They charged forward with rushed footsteps that tapped loudly and Mai Trin whirled around, her dark hair falling in thin strands around her pale cheeks and her dark eyes squinted in fury.

With a deft, nimble movement she pulled something from her waist with practised ease and lifted her hand in which she held a shining instrument, pointing it straight at Tivon who had charged in head-first with his bow lifted into the air, arrow pointing at her chest. “This is what your curiosity gets you!”, she cursed and Tivon stared straight at the barrel of her pistol and could not break his momentum in time. There was only one single thought: That even he, nimble and quick reflexes granted to him, could never hope to dodge a bullet. His body tensed and time seemed to slow while he watched Mai Trin's finger on the trigger, pulling taunt ever so slowly, and his intake of breath suddenly echoed through his chest and body and was astoundingly loud in his own ears.

The moment shattered and broke at his feet in a cascade and rush. The gunshot was even louder, raking and bursting through his haze and he halted and shrunk back, his body trembling and awaiting the pain, the tear of his bark, the agony and anguish of a wound pooled by a bullet, but it never came.

Instead Mai Trin cried out and the pistol clattered to the ground deafeningly loud and the First Mate cried “Captain!”, but he was swarmed by the Lionguard and could not move through the swarm of golden and shining armor as blades threatened his form.

But Tivon barely registered that. Instead he registered a line of purple that danced before him, woven into the very fabric of air, oscillating and waving like water. It glittered just faintly before it vanished into nothingness and he was startled when a Lionguard approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You alright?” Tivon very nearly jumped, his eyes wide and uncomprehending and he nodded slowly, his throat suddenly dry.

“Yeah, fine.”, he rasped out. The Liongaurd gave him a strange look, but Tivon moved away. The tang of magic was in the air, vibrant and inebriating. It hummed right where the line had been, but there was no sign of it now. He lifted his hand, tried to grasp empty air and knew how utterly ridiculous and foolish he looked, but he felt it sparkling and trembling on the back of his hand, making his skin prickle was anxiety at the unknown.

The feeling dwindled away as though carried away by a gentle breeze and left only empty air of the magic that had so evidently saved Tivon's life. Mai Trin had aimed at him, his chest, he had seen it, the angle of the barrel and its direction, there could have been no other target. He had never seen the bullet, but he was sue it was now lodged inside Mai Trin's shoulder, rendering her sword arm useless.

Slowly Tivon shifted his eyes and gripped the bow in his hand tighter to ground himself in the reality again, a nervous trepidation crawling up his spine.

“Lionguard, take our intrepid airship captain into custody. Don't take your eyes off her.”, Kiel ordered, ad Tivon watched Mai Trin resist against the shackles around her wrist that constricted her movement considerably, and where there had been once a hint of beauty in her features there remained nothing but wrath, fury and spite, her dishevelled hair casting a wild look over her cheekbones, her jaw ending in a tight grind of her teeth.

Her dark eyes flashed furiously toward Tivon as she was pushed past him, escorted by a group of Lionguard that watched and held her carefully and painfully tight. Tivon's chest clenched at the raw and bare emotion shot his way, and knew that all her anger was fuelled by frustration that the shot should never have missed. That the shot should never have reflected. That she had planned to, _at least_ , take him down with her.

“We will take her in for questioning.”, Kiel said and he turned to face her, trying to hide the mixture of emotion from displaying plainly on his face – because if she asked if something was wrong, he was not sure he could answer honestly.

“She does not look like the talkative kind.”, Tivon said doubtfully.

“We captured some other Aetherblades as well – perhaps something can be squeezed from them.” she shrugged and in her hand was the thin rapier that Mai Trin had worn at her waist without a chance to pull it from its sheath. “I haven't seen a weapon like this.”, she murmured. “And that norn held that hand-canon like he was born to it. These are inventions all coming from the cooperation of the Inquest and the Pirates and it makes me wonder just what surprises await us.”

“We'll have to be careful.”, Tivon agreed with a frown knitting his eyebrows together. “There was the Molten Alliance, Dredge and Flame Legion banding together, and now Inquest and Pirates. Something must be brooding much deeper if our enemies make such unlikely alliances.”

She nodded grimly and put the rapier back in its sheath with a clear metallic noise. “I agree. I will inform you once we find something, but that may take a while.”

“Are you putting me on vacation?”, Tivon joked lightly and put back the arrow he had drawn just in case, even though he had never needed it. The thin wood felt comfortable and somewhat calming under his fingertips, easing some of the tension that he still wrestled with inside. Magic was something strange, alien, entirely ephemeral and out of his grasp, like attempting to catch air with his bare hands.

“You deserve it.” Kiel said sincerely. “Your name now appears on a list of those who have come to the defense of Lion's Arch. We keep this prestigious list to honor anyone who defended the city. The first name on the list is, of course, Cobiah Marriner. It also serves as a list of those the Ship's Council considers allies and who may be called upon to help again in a time of crisis.”

“That...”, Tivon stuttered and he fumbled nervously at a leaf on his thigh, his bright, green foliage falling over his forehead when he looked at the ground between his feet. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_ , Tivon. And now go take a break – God's know you deserve one.”

Tivon gave a quick nod, lifted his arm and not a second later Vail landed, claws finding purchase on the bark that was his skin, and with one last fleeting smile toward Kiel he turned around the way they had come, Derry following close at his heel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter things will finally progress between Tivon and our mysterious sylvari friend. Why am I telling you this? To tease you of course! (Looking at you Lamshire! :D ) I love you guys!


	7. The Zephyrites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I wanted to wait a few more days, but I've never been a good tease. I'm sorry (I guess? xD). Also, I will have two weeks of holiday soon, which means: I CAN WRITE. LOADS.  
> This chapter is probably the most heart-tearing thing I have written. Gosh, I adore Tivon in this. I really tried to drag it out between them, but they just kept being drawn back together, you know? You'll know what I mean.  
> Enjoy, peeps. :D

There was a human saying that Tivon never quite understood. If he was honest there were many quite quirky things that humans said and believed in general, but this one had Tivon reflecting and pondering, body still and quiet and tense for hours as his eyes watched emptily into the distance.

_Curiosity killed the cat._

In human beliefs, cats possessed nine lives. Was that a part of the analogy? Was it a reference to the first or the last life? Or perhaps it was of no consequence to its meaning at all?

He juggled the thoughts to and fro, his eyes barely registering the rays of sunlight that announced the rise of yet another day.

It would have never bothered him quite so much if it had not been thrown at his face twice in a row, or at least remotely so. The first had been Mai Trin, _“This is where your curiosity gets you!”_ , and the other being a human bandit that had thought to make him easy prey when he had crouched near a small river-bed to allay his thirst, _“You ought to not have been quite so curious, plant!”_

Needless to say that the bandit had ended in a sprawl on his ass in the dirt, and an angry fern hound pounding his front paws on his chest and baring large, flashing teeth in warning before he had begged to be released – and Tivon had obliged.

 _The blossom is brother to the weed_ , he had thought as he soothingly brushed Derry's ferns, the stems feeling brittle from the exposure of the demanding and glaring sun, whilst the Bandit had stumbled through the thicket and the undergrowth out of sight.

He was curious. That was simply a trait of his, a wonderfully giddy and infantile joy for anything new and outlandish, a great rapture at the behest of his yet ambiguous Wyld Hunt.

But why a _cat_? He frowned once more, drawing the lines of darkened bark that made up his eyebrows closer. Cats were cautious, skitterish even. Their instincts proved a great asset when it came to sensing danger, and their natural predatory abilities certainly made them no easy prey. He thought of great panthers, black cats that were lithe and dark as shadows, stalking through the underbrush with disquieting ease and unparalleled hush.

“What are you doing?”

Tivonn jumped from where he had crouched, muscles suddenly jerking to action and sending him to jump a few feet with an undignified yelp. With a pound in his chest he turned and cautiously placed a foot back, shoulders drawn in and arms raised in case he needed to defend himself – and found himself faced with the answer.

 _Oh_ , he thought when those eyes sparkled in the dark and cool of the morning, the streaks of the sun barely painting gilded lines against the horizon. White rings circling a dark iris that pulled him in like an abyss and free-fall, the soft curl of lips that made the cool of the night abruptly turn into a sweltering and stifling heat.

So _this_ was what they meant. To be curious, far too curious for ones own good, in the certain knowledge that one should not meddle, should not be intrigued, should not be enraptured and spellbound and...quite so _fascinated_. To _know_ better, and yet to be unable to resist temptation.

The sylvari frowned and tilted his head, features almost turning into a worried expression when Tivon had simply stared at him the last few seconds, his mouth agape, body wound up like a spring and like a cat ready to jump and flee. “I was-”, Tivon stuttered and straightened slightly, willing his tense shoulders to drop. “I was thinking.”

“What a _dangerous_ thing to do.”, the sylvari teased, and the way he said that word made Tivon shiver and wonder how anyone could weave a threat and allure into a word at once. “And what has your mind quite so distracted?” The voice was innocent, oblivious even, and Tivon was sure that no matter how hard he would try, the sylvari would be able to read his thoughts from his face without any difficulty. Knew that the moment the sylvari appeared, no other thought could take precedence but those that tangled and curled around how beautiful and magnificent the sylvari looked, and how the mere sight captivated him to such an extend that his breath stuttered in his chest.

_Pull yourself together._

“Cats.”, Tivon answered dumbly and the sylvari's face was expressionless for a split second before he laughed and shook his head, shaking the leavs atop his head as well at the motion. The sound bubbled from his chest, a slow chuckle that broke into a full laugh, and it rang in Tivon's ears like the comforting sound of crinkly branches in a summer breeze, leaving a comfortable ache in his chest.

 _No, stop,_ he told himself and took a deep breath, but he could not help his own smile that spread across his lips, could not help the warmth that spread through him, that lingering and clawing need to have the sylvari smile as often as he could make him. _Curling vines_ , he was lost.

“And what is so curious about cats?”, the sylvari asked, eyes gleaming in mirth and jest, but Tivon heard no derision in his tone. He found it much more astounding that the sylvari used the word _curious_ and that somehow, Pale Tree help him, the universe had twisted everything once again and highlighted this moment like a magnifying lens. As though it was a trick that the sylvari had chosen that word, a twist of fate, a coincidence that could hardly be.

“Well,” Tivon began and gulped down the nervousness, wondered how much of an idiot he would look like if he even attempted to form sentences quite so long as to explain the complexity of the prior conundrum and its solution, and found that, with how expectant and watchful the sylvari was, he did not want to reveal his thoughts, lest he steer himself into looking like an utter fool, especially because he knew he would stutter at least once halfway through. “Just...you know.”, he fumbled for the words, hands snagging a leaf that curled around his leg like a tunic and glanced at his fingers. “Nothing.”, he finally murmured, and cursed himself inwardly.

Brambles and Vines, what was wrong with him? So much for _not_ making a fool out of himself.

He heard the soft shift of leaves when the sylvari moved and saw a hand tenderly reach for a fern that had fallen onto Tivons forehead that obstructed some of his vision and lift it up over the back of his head where it fell gently to rest atop the other foliage, and his eyes glanced shyly upward before he could even tell himself otherwise.

The hand lingered there, just inches hovering over the foliage, the warmth spreading through from the top of his head like the rays of sunshine. He found his eyes transfixed once more and could read nothing into the mysterious curl of lips that was the enigmatic smile Tivon _loved_.

The mystery was killing him, slowly. Thorns, all he wanted was one chance to speak without stuttering like a moron so that he might _learn_ more, so that he might slowly unravel the secret, watching it unfold like a flower opening to the sun in spring bloom.

“You are adorable.”, the sylvari murmured and held his gaze with perfected ease, as though he could barely feel the gravitation that Tivon so clearly fought with. He bristled slightly as that. The Karka atop his shoulder was _cute_. But he? No, he wasn't...To put it in such a way, now that was just...

“Am not.”, Tivon protested and the sylvari's grin widened at the defiant tone in Tivon's voice. His courage left him once again, porous and brittle like clay shattering on stone floor, leaving him feeling stark and bare under the gaze. It only occurred to him that the sylvari was slightly taller, that he had to look _up_ of all things, that any defiance he put up would be undermined by the fact that he had to _crane_ his neck to meet his eyes, that every protest of his would be nothing but feeble and farce.

He turned his head away to the side, chagrined by his weak state of presence. In comparison to the sylvari he had barely any at all to speak of, a small pebble in the wake of a mountain, a river flowing into a large, wide, open sea.

The sylvari dropped his hand ever so slowly and Tivon saw the movement from the corner of his eyes, chest tightening as he watched in growing anticipation, a staccato breath escaping him when the sylvari sauntered _closer_ and the scent of lavender filled the air like a sweet incense that lulled his mind into a haze. The hand dropped further and Tivon felt it brush over his forearm, leaving a shiver in its wake – and even though the motion took barely two seconds it felt like the moment stretched in an _eternity_ , as though the hand pushed through time and space itself, slowing everything down until the fingers ghosted over the back of his hand, his mind scrabbling for anything to say, to do, suddenly so very _helpless_ and the fingers curled around his own, soft and _so warm_ that Tivon's chest ached.

“What are you-”, Tivon brought out, turning to stare at his hand, his head not yet comprehending that the sylvari held his _hand_ , even though the evidence was right in front of his eyes, and he lifted his gaze to stare at the sylvari with widened eyes and mouth slightly parted as if to form a word, but he forgot it halfway down from his head to his mouth.

“Do you trust me?”, the sylvari asked, face earnest and concerned and _tender_ , and it melted Tivon right where he stood.

A voice in the far back protested weakly against his hazy mind, that despite all this the sylvari was a _stranger_ , but Tivon found that all the more reason to answer as he did, that it made sense to give a stranger the benefit of a doubt. “Yes.”, he breathed and was rewarded with a beautiful, slow smile that made him feel like melted and curdling hot wax from a candle, drowning and lacking any air to breathe.

“Close your eyes.”

Tivon took a deep breath that hitched in his chest and his eyelids drifted shut, covering everything in blackness. It surrounded him, engulfing and usually _terrifying_ , and yet here with that hand still so gently holding his own, warm and soft and _thorns_ , his mind would not stop thinking that he was _helpless_ , that even though he should not think it he imagined the sylvari leaning down and -

Warmth. On his back. The sound of seagulls, water washing gently against his ankles. Waves soothingly rocking around them in their gentle, natural rhythm. Tivon blinked his eyes open and gasped, and _Oh,_ his eyes trailing over distant shores of brilliant, untainted white sand against large rocky cliffs that reached high into the air. He drank in the sight of the dark and spotless blue sky above his head, followed the birds with his eyes and turned his body to look behind him.

An endless sea of water, and there, at the thin line where water, sky and horizon met, the sun sparkled over the surface, glittering and gilded and _welcoming_ , and Tivon couldn't help but stare, watch every streak of the sun as it rose into the sky inch for inch.

It was _beautiful_ . It was nature, it was the inherent beauty of it, right before his dazzled eyes. It was untouched, untainted, _perfection_. The slow rise of the sun, the water at his feet, the sky over his head and the rocks at his back, Tivon felt more like he belonged than he ever had. If he could he would stand here, day and night, grow roots so he would never leave again, wake each morning to glance at the sun rising to greet a new day.

He was so entranced and enchanted the hand that squeezed his own very nearly startled him and he turned his head to see the sylvari right beside him, a knowing smile playing at his lips.

“I-”, Tivon stuttered and shook his head to propel himself from his daydream to reality. “I'm sorry. It's just-”

“Beautiful.”, the sylvari finished for him in understanding, the male's eyes gliding past his head and shoulder toward where Tivon's eyes had been transfixed on the glow of the sun. The appreciation on the sylvari's features, the admission that the sunlight, warm and tender and gilded, was just as invigorating to him as it was to Tivon judging from the smile that curled at his lips, it made Tivon's feeling unspool once more. That Tivon wanted to _know_ this sylvari, to indulge in who he was, what made him who he was, what roads he had transversed in his life to be here, with _him_ , of all the sylvari.

“Where are we?”, Tivon asked, eyes wandering over the dazzling perfect picture before him.

“We are close to the Sanctum Harbor, at the Labyrinthine Cliffs.”, the sylvari explained. “This is where the Zephyrites have decided to trade with us Tyrians. They call it the Bazaar of the Four Winds.” Tivon was not quite so fond of the idea of mingling among the many people gawking at different market stands and his reaction must have shown because the sylvari chuckled. “Do not worry. I have another plan in mind.”

“A plan?”,Tivon repeated and could not help the anticipation rising like a tide.

The hand squeezed once more and Tivon twitched slightly, so very slightly that the motion was barely even visible, but the sylvari saw it and the lips curled even more. “Come with me.”, the sylvari said, voice even and turned toward the shore, wading through the water that drenched part of the ferns of his robe near his ankles with a soft swooshing noise, but he did not seem to mind.

 _Anywhere_ , Tivon thought and slapped himself mentally, was dragged along by the hand that still held his own with no strength nor will to protest. It felt surreal and otherwordly, that he was here, with the sylvari, that he held his hand, that the sylvari seemed to be just as fascinated and interested in Tivon as he was in the sylvari. Enough to care and bring him here, enough to know that this place took Tivon's breath away.

It bubbled in Tivon's chest, the sheer force of the knowledge that _someone_ was actually interested, that _someone_ cared enough. For _him._ It was not that Tivon had felt neglected – he had his companions, his friends, and he felt comfortable and happy around them, yet _this_ , whatever _this_ was, his life had lacked. A genuine bond, something elevating and crushing at the very same time, inebriating and terrifying.

“Where are you taking me?”, Tivon asked, could not tear his eyes from the cliffs that rose higher and higher the more they approached.

“If I told you that would spoil all my fun.”, the sylvari chuckled and Tivon was excited and nervous at once. His feet splashed through the ankle height water that slowly receded in height until the dry, fine and smooth sand curled against his soles, stuck between his toes and he waggled them, grinning sheepishly.

How had the sylvari managed to bring him here? Was this even real? Perhaps he was dreaming after all. _Oh, please do not let this be a dream,_ Tivon thought helplessly and let his eyes drag over the back of the sylvari, catch glimpses of the swaying ferns that surrounded the male's body in soft circles with every movement. The sylvari moved so gracefully that every step Tivon made felt rocky, stuttering, uneven. Completely without balance, without nimbleness, simply because the sylvari's movement was fluid and lithe.

In comparison he was like one of those human toddlers doing its very first steps, whereas the male almost _danced_ as he walked, every movement bringing a sway of the hips, the brush of the sylvari's arm beside his body, whilst the hand still held on to Tivon's, warm and soft and pliant.

The sylvari's steps made light sounds into the sand as it yielded beneath his soles and Tivon compared them to his memory, where he had seen the footprints of bare feet in the dark sand in the dead of night, and now there was an imprint of boots made from sylvari armor that held the same width and length, the same depth, the same form. A giddiness arose that threatened to overwhelm him and he beamed, all to himself.

A shadow fell over him and he realized that, as he had stared at the footprints painted into the sand before him, the sylvari was leading him into a cave that opened large and wide, the sound of rushing water coming closer to his ears with each step, the sand ceasing and stone covering the path ahead, making almost creaking noises as they walked that echoed just slightly from the walls.

The ground rose just slightly and the sound of water was almost crashing now, the ground here splattered with drops from the waterbed just ahead. A large waterfall crashed down from above sprinkling water everywhere, the noise so loud it drowned anything else.

Tivon craned his neck with his lips parted in awe, followed with his eyes where the water emerged from the rocks above from a small crevice, and saw that a small wooden bridge lead across toward the unknown that lay hidden behind the gush of water falling from above.

The air here was soothing and cool on his armor and skin and he lifted his hand into the air toward a spray of water, felt it run over his hand and forearm only to drip onto the ground in an almost tickling sensation.

“Here.”, the sylvari tugged at his hand gently and Tivon stepped beside him. On a small polished marble podest gleamed a bright, yellow crystal that showered them in a gilded light. It gave a soft hum in the air Tivon could only so much as _sense_ than hear, the waterfall roaring loud over everything else.

“What is it?”, Tivon breathed, his eyes trained in awe on the small, spinning crystal. Its many surfaces were smooth and polished, the warm yellow glow coming from deep within.

“It's a Sun Crystal.”, the sylvari explained. “The Zephyrites use them in their everyday life. The power within is born from what remained of the dragon, Glint, and they use that power in her honor.” The voice was rich, filling, even despite the roar of the waterfall so close Tivon could hear every word, would like nothing more than to continue listening, to have his eyes trail over the shift the sylvaris features as his cheeks moved, the lips parted... To watch as the water collected in the foliage atop the sylvaris heads at the pale, white streaks of his glowing pattern where they dropped onto his cheek to roll sinfully over the skin, down toward the chin and drop onto the sylvari's chest, over skin and armor that Tivon wanted to reach our for and touch, _feel_ under his palm, just to appease his curiosity if it felt as soft and wet as it looked.

The sylvari shifted his gaze from the crystal and noticed Tivon's lingering stare. Tivon made a startled noise at being caught and his mouth opened in an attempt of explanation, “Um.” he tried and quickly averted his eyes, like a dog that had done something wrong, could not bring himself to meet those eyes of the sylvari and the flush of embarrassment made a tug of warmth spread in his abdomen. He was sure the male had seen that he'd been _staring_ . Pale Mother, what was wrong with _him_? So helpless, so nervous, so utterly lost, like a ship on the sea that forgot it could float.

With a slow motion, so slow it dragged through the very time itself, the sylvari lifted their hands were they were entwined and Tivon watched with wide eyes as the male pulled his hand closer, further and further up toward his head, his face, _his lips_ , and Tivon forgot to breathe, the inhale lost in a stutter when the warmth spiralled up his spine into his head, the dark eyes circled by that beautiful white outer ring that shone in the dark of the cave, an eclipse that trapped Tivon where he stood, eyes holding and capturing his own.

Hot breath ghosted over the back of his hand, sent a shiver up his arm into his shoulder and back, turned from there into a tremble that made it impossible to think, to act, to do anything other than _stare_. The sylvari held his hand there for an agonizing second, teasing with light, warm breaths before Tivon felt the soft brush of lips against his skin, and something very much like an electric shock pulsed through him, heat coiled in his core and he hitched a breath. The lips lingered, so soft and yielding and pliant, and it was the most moronic thing Tivon had thought in quite a long time, but he was envious of that part of skin where the lips lingered in a soft, chaste kiss. The eyes never left his own, studying him, scrutinizing and watching so intently that he could not tear his own eyes away, all that he could do was struggle for breath and not to collapse where his stood, his legs trembling from the effort it suddenly took for them to keep standing.

When the lips parted he noticed that the sounds had faded, because only now he could hear the roaring of the waterfall again, the spray of water soothing on his scalding hot skin. It felt almost as if he were on fire or bathed in a molten river of lava, the heat trailing over his whole body in pulses that shook him to his center – and with a gulp of his throat he noticed, dazed and dizzy, that the male let go of his hand and as Tivon pulled it closer almost protectively (Not because he was _afraid._ Not necessarily. He wanted it close, to keep the memory _close and close and closer_ , if only he could so it would never be erased) and behind his hand, showing just as he pulled his hand tightly against his chest where he clutched it with his other hand, appeared a smile, curdling and _victorious_.

 _Thorns and brambles_ , Tivon thought when a spike went through him. _I am lost._

They held the gaze, staring, pulling at unknown strings that was like an entirely new kind of gravity just between them, taunting and plucking at something in Tivon's chest to lean _in_ , to lean _forward_ , to stand in the space that the sylvari occupied, to be _close_.

It clutched and clawed at his inside in its boisterous demand, but Tivon stood rooted, fearful, body trembling, his mind _torn_ and _afraid._ His _body_ screamed at him to approach, to engulf and be engulfed, and his instinct screamed _too fast, too fast, too foolish, you have to stop._ Every second dragged by, a heavy weight atop his shoulder sagging his weight, his legs feeling weak and his abdomen gave an uncomfortable clench when anxiety and the sheer _gravity_ of the situations tore at him and mixed until it grew into nausea.

The fight was visible in his features, in his pale, round green eyes that stared widely at the male, and ever so slowly that victorious smile faded, the expression turned into one of worry so much that Tivon cursed himself.

“I am sorry.”, the sylvari said, and even though he spoke barely louder than a whisper, his voice was clear, deep, _sincere_ , and the words tore at Tivon's chest, clutching at the string that pulled them so evidently together. “That was...rash. Crude. I apologize.”

 _He should not have to apologize,_ Tivon thought as bitterness spread on his tongue and he opened his mouth, lips suddenly dry, but did not know how to respond. It was all so new, so fresh, so _overwhelming_ . He did not know what to do, how to act, whether he should let the desire to _know_ , to reach out, to _touch_ and to allow this – whatever it was – persevere. If what he was feeling, this staggering desire and towering rapture, was even _normal_.

Who, after all, _stared_ as he did? Who stared at the other so openly, so unashamed, _taking and savouring_ with their eyes? Who obsessed quite so strongly, day and night, that the very thoughts spiralled so out of control? He _imagined_ other things, imagined what might happen if he leaned in, if he sought the closeness of warmth and comfort, and it was _so_ much he wanted, so much he imagined... It could not be normal. That even though the sylvari was a stranger he imagined what it would be like to _be_ with him. To spend _years_ and _decades_ with him. That he imagined sitting side by side glancing from shores toward the gilded horizon in the waning of sunlight, cheerful, smiling toward the coming of a next day.

It was a sweet ache in his chest that urged, greedy and needy, and he _knew_ he was asking too much, that he was being utterly selfish for thinking like this, that something was wrong with him.

“Tivon?”, the sylvari asked solicitous, leaned forward just slightly, hand lifting into the air to place it soothingly on Tivon's arm, but Tivon startled and almost jumped away, eyes still fearful and wide, and when he met the sylvari's gaze he could see the worry grow in the gleam of those beautiful eyes, worry that Tivon felt he did not deserve.

“I- I am sorry.”, Tivon stuttered and averted his eyes, could not meet the troubled gaze, could see the dark hand with its long fingers hovering in the air, bare inches away from his own skin that flared at the promise of the touch and he clutched the hand that the sylvari had kissed and nearly clawed at it, pulled it tightly against his chest, the phantom of the kiss lingering on the back of his hand like a mark made from a coiled, hot rod. “I can't...I mean, I...”

The sylvari nodded with a sympathetic stare and pulled his hand back, leaving a trail of cold on Tivon's skin that had anticipated the touch. “I understand.”, the male said, soothingly, and Tivon knew that voice was just for him, for his conscious, so that he did not feel _bad_ , but it did not alleviate the weight in his chest that was like a boulder dragging down _everything_ , instead, it made it even _worse_.

Pale Tree, the least he could do was explain how twisted he was, how he could never put that on any other, least of all _this_ _sylvari_. This breathtaking, glamorous, beautiful and utterly _perfect_ sylvari. That his desire was imperious it threatened to slip from his grasp, that he feared to be selfish in his wanton desires, to ask, no, _demand_ what was not _his,_ what could never be his, what should never be his. This side of him frightened him. He did not dare think what it would do to others if it managed to uproot and dishevel _him_ like this, if he himself already struggled with a very nature that was so deep within him it was a dark part clawing to break free, fighting him for his control.

“No, it's...”, Tivon protested and took a deep breath, summoning his courage but not finding the right words and he dragged a hand through the leaves atop his head with a frustrated noise. “It's...me. It's my fault. I'm sorry.”

The words felt pathetic and brittle even as he spoke them. They bore no explanation for his thoughts, his actions, and least of all would not _comfort_ anyone. The afterglow of the words were bitter and his body burned with shame, the previous comfortable warmth replaced and forgotten.

“Tivon.”, the sylvari said again, and it was just his name, but the tug in Tivon's chest nearly tore him in two. Slowly he raised his eyes, fear and anxiety mixed into the green orbs, expectant and frightened, and noticed that the sylvari _smiled_ encouragingly, understanding, softly. There was a lurch in his chest at the sight, and a voice whispering _Maybe, just maybe..._ “Trust me. I understand.” The words were sweet, like honey running down a sore, burning throat and easing the pain that clenched in Tivon's chest. The features were sincere, tender, almost loving, and the voice whispered, more strongly, renewed and vigorous, _Maybe, maybe, just maybe..._

All Tivon could do was nod, his throat too tight for words and the sylvari took a careful step back, creating distance that Tivon didn't want, not when he had come so close, and yet it was for the best. It was better for him to stay away when he was so uncontrolled, so selfish, so unrefined and wanton. He would not push himself, him and his treacherous, greedy desires, onto the sylvari.

“Here.”, the sylvari gestured toward the crystal that had hummed – all but forgotten – on the podest, the water sprinkling from above in a soothing mist that slowly managed to seep through to Tivon's hazy mind. “I meant to show you _this._ Touch it.”

Tivon made an uncertain step forward, tried to focus his mind, the crystal humming louder as he approached and he reached out with his hand (the one that was not kissed, he held that one close, close, _closer_ ) until his fingertips brushed over the smooth, even surface, the glow warm upon his palm and then a shock went through him abruptly, filling his hand, forearm, shoulder, chest and head with warmth that spread through the rest of his body in a staggering pulse and and stumbled back with a gasp.

The chuckle beside him only slowly broke through his surprised haze and he stared at his hand that gave a soft, yellow glow that shimmered atop his own bright pattern. It was warm, like the rays of sunshine on bare skin, like the feeling of cooling wax on his fingertips. With wide, fascinated eyes he stared and turned his hand from one side to the other, inspecting, wondering, _marvelling_. “What is this?”, he asked breathlessly, never taking his eye off that soft glow that traced and swirled over his hand, the previous conflict with himself almost forgotten.

“It is magic.”, the sylvari answered and Tivon shivered at the voice, the feeling of warmth as that sparkle and gleam filled him.

“It's...so soft.”, Tivon murmured, more to himself than anyone else because he had imagined magic to feel cold, like a metallic pole stuck in deep winter snow, of cool and brittle coiling in the veins and through limps that itched to break and tear free.

A laugh beside him made him finally tear his eyes away from his own glowing hand, suddenly entranced by the sound and the sight of the sylvari laughing. The chest stuttered in the motion, and the male shook his head with a mirthful smile, slowly meeting Tivon's gaze with a cheerful gleam in his eyes. “It is the Zephyrites Sun magic.”, the sylvari explained, that smile lingering on his lips. “These crystals allow their use, for a short period of time. Even to non-magic users.”

“I didn't know...”, Tivon murmured and gazed back at his hand. “What does it do?”

“You may use it.”, the sylvari answered and gestured with a nod of his chin toward the waterfall where the water crashed against the wooden bridge. “The light will guide you across.”

Tivon stepped closer toward the waterfall, the spray almost turning into a cool shower and the anxiety crawling up his skin into his insides like a snake, curling and tightening around him. For a few seconds he stood, mustering the waterfall with uncertainty and disbelief. “I...I don't know how.”, he finally admitted in a low voice against the bellow of water crushing, but the sylvari still heard and approached with the same easy grace he always carried.

Tivon waited, listened to the steps until they were right behind him, and he almost expected them to shift beside him but they stood and two hands came to rest atop his arms, curling gently around his skin and when his breath stuttered, the sylvari made no mention of it. “Close you eyes.”, the voice came, so very close to the shell of Tivon's ear that another shiver went through him, head to toe when he felt the hot brush of breath. The warmth of the body behind him permeated and weaved into the air so that Tivon could feel it against his back, even through the sylvari armor. For a second he forgot what the sylvari had instructed and closed his eyes with a short delay, braced himself against the darkness that would follow the fall of his lashes and his senses highlighted the hands on his skin, the fingers that shifted ever so slightly over the small, weaving greens and leaves that grew in spirals around his bicepp, and Tivon imprinted that feeling into his head, into his mind so he would never forget. “Imagine you are the sea.”, the sylvari continued and Tivon imagined crystal blue water, clear waves gushing and churning wide in the open, bare sea. “The sun glares atop the surface. Warm. Soft. Gilded. Glittering. Sparkling.” _Oh_ , Tivon could see it before his minds eye, and even more so could feel the closeness, the warmth, and very suddenly, the _urges_ returning like whips in dream, faint and faded, slowly gaining form. “It breaks through the surface, breaks to the layers beneath. Deep and deeper.”

Tivon could not hold back his shiver, and barely held back an embarrassing noise that threatened to escape him. Pale Mother help him, he was so warped, depraved, lascivious. Why was he acting like this? Why did his mind conjure such images, such twisted plays of mislead thoughts he could not even control? The hands on his shoulders tightened and he almost _melted_ into the touch, leaned back ever so slightly, barely a shift of his weight. He wanted...wanted...

What? What did he want?

Just... _want_ . Nothing more. He just _wanted_.

 _No,_ Tivon thought, terrified, and forced his mind to focus, back on track, back from his hazy mind back into reality. _Oh no, no no. You can't. That's wrong. It's wrong._

“Can you feel it?” Tivon gave a nod of his head, was afraid his voice would give away his inner struggle. He felt no balance in him at all, that he would fall toward the ground in a graceless heap once those two hands let him go. _Please don't let go,_ he thought and slapped himself inwardly, thought that he deserved at least one hit on the head with a large, blunt instrument. “Good. Concentrate. Feel. It will happen naturally.”

“What will happen?”, Tivon asked before thinking better of it, and his voice was raw, broken at the last syllable. The hands twitched slightly, fingers curled tighter against his skin and he felt an exhale over the shell of his ear. _Thorns._

“Magic.”; the sylvari answered, voice level, with a hint of a smile at the edges.

Tivon took a deep breath. _Focus. Think. Stop being an idiot,_ he told himself, over and over, concentrated on the rush of the waterfall, the roaring in his ears instead of the breath against the back of his neck and head, concentrated on the sprinkles of water on his foliage and skin as they rolled over his bark and lower instead of the hands that held his shoulders. A few seconds – or was it minutes? - Tivon could not really tell, but time passed by, and slowly, ever so slowly, his mind began to clear, his abdomen began to unclench from that tight curl of desire that had settled there. It faded into a sprawl of unrefined heat that turned into warmth, and eventually his mind was finally devoid.

He conjured the image in his mind; a sea, broad and wide and blue and the sun, glaring down into the depths beneath. Warmth spread through him, a comfortable warmth that was so very unlike the demanding desire that had built up not minutes ago. This was something else, filling his chest with a soft flutter like the wings of a butterfly and then the image unfolded, he felt a static run through his body and a cold rush over him before he suddenly stumbled forward and his eyes shot open, hands braced against a cold stone wall to catch himself from falling. Sharp edges dug into his palm and his breath came in ragged heaves and he was _drenched_ to the bark, his armor dripping to the ground with soft, splattering noises and with an uncomprehending stare he glanced over his shoulder.

The waterfall roared behind him, large and powerful from above, but behind it, through streaks and lines of the water Tivon could make out the sylvari's glowing white pattern painted against the dark of the cave.

His chest drew in a ragged breath and his mind whirled in an attempt to understand, to comprehend...that he was here, somehow, that he had _passed_ through the waterfall, that he had used... _magic_.

A yelp of surprise escaped him when a bulb of light dashed through the waterfall, abruptly bursting through the massive sheet of descending water with a splash and then, in a burst of yellow and gilded light appeared the sylvari, nonchalant and balanced as ever as if coming to a halt after a stroll. The male did not even stagger after coming from the form and tilted his head with a smile, and Tivon though that his legs might give out.

“Are you alright?”, the sylvari asked and added with a chuckle, “I was afraid you might smack yourself against the wall.”

“It was a near thing.”, Tivon admitted and stared at his palm where the bark was a little raw, but not torn open before glancing back up again. “I have...never felt that before.”

“Magic is rare.”, the sylvari said. “Some may have it inside them, dormant and waiting, perhaps never to be revealed, whereas in most the gift does not exist.”, the was a short pause in which the male studied Tivon for a moment before he finished, “I am not sure which you are.”

Tivon chuckled at that and gestured the comment away with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. “There is no magic in me. None at all. But this is...nice. To be allowed to experience what it is is like. I had wondered what...”, he broke off and decided to finally, _finally_ say something he'd wanted to say when he had realized that the sylvari had brought him here. “Thank you.” It was earnest and heart-felt, smothering all that he had fought with before.

“I thought you might enjoy it.”; the sylvari replied with a smile. “And there is much, _much_ more to show you than a crystal and a waterfall.”

Tivon beamed at that. _Maybe, maybe_ , it echoed within him. “I would like that.”

The sylvari craned his neck, water droplets cascading from his chin down the long, dark neck, and Tivon's mouth went dry at the sight. Images flared into his head and he tore his eyes away, followed the sylvari's gaze. “It is a long, treacherous climb.”, the male said, almost casually before his eyes settled on Tivon. “Will you manage?”

“Will you?”, Tivon grinned back, his eyes trailing over the rocks and up above where a small crevice was an opening for the waterfall and some daylight skimmed through. The wall was wet from the sprinkles of water and Tivon stretched out his hand to idly search for a hold with his hand, wondered how long it would take when the sylvari behind him spoke once more,

“I was kidding.”, he shook his head with a smile. “There is a passage through here.”

It was embarrassing; both that he had not seen how obvious it had been that he could not hope to even make the climb as well as the fact that he had missed the narrow space where a plank lead over a small gap deeper into the cave around a sharp curve. “Ah.”, he made and quickly added, under his breath, “I am an idiot.”

“An _adorable_ idiot.”, the sylvari corrected and Tivon felt heat creep into his cheeks, could not turn his head to meet the male's eyes even they they bored into the side of his head so expectantly.

“Am not.”, Tiovn argued, but the protest was almost drowned by the hallow and low of his voice that barely reached the sylvari's ears. Thankfully the male did not reply and left Tivon in his state of vexation with his own idiocy and lead them both through the narrow passages. It winded and twisted through the caves, the way leading up and up and up, until, finally, rays of sunlight bloomed through a crevice ahead.

With a hand steadying him on the stone wall Tivon braced himself and blinked against the bright light that almost painfully met his sensitive eyes and he waited until his sight adjusted and stabilized – and what he saw took his breath away. Ahead, just a few steps forward, was a round, large platform made from wood, and adjacent, no, _all around_ were similar platforms that spiralled far over their heads, leading higher and higher along the cliffsides that adorned the massive bazaar below, all connected by small, thin planks of birch wood that shone brightly in the sunlight.

He could hear the noises and voices from below only faintly and distantly, a constant chatter of voices drifting up toward them carried by the wind, but he cared little for the dark silhouetted figures on the ground.

“ _Oh._ ”, he made, delighted and shivering in eager anticipation. He could explore, could climb as high as he would like, could run undisturbed and see everything from so far above that he could reach and touch the clouds. He took a step forward, overwhelmed with taking all of this in, eyes trailing over various destinations that formed in his heads, point of interest, and there, further away in the distance was one, small platform resting atop a large cliff that stood solitary amidst the wild of nature below, bushes and plants circling up toward in an attempt to climb it, with wooden constructions twisting around it like a birch-colored snake curling around her prey. It was the highest by far, so far into the sky Tivon had to crane his neck where he stood and he could not see atop the platform, could only marvel at it from beneath.

His legs itched, he wanted to move, when abruptly the sylvari beside him made a noise between a chuckle and clearing his throat and Tivon turned his head, flushed with excitement and anxiety, eager to move, to explore, to _see_. “I am glad.”, the sylvari smiled warmly. “And I won't keep you, but there are two things that I would like to show you before you go.”

“Won't you come with me?”, Tivon asked almost in desperation. He had assumed...Oh, he was being an idiot once again, wasn't he?

The sylvari glanced over the various constructions and platforms with a careful glance before he shook his head. “I am not a climber, but I will be with you, watching you.”

“Will I be able to see you?”, Tivon continued to ask, did not want this meeting to be over, not now when they finally had spoken more than barely a few sentences, for longer than just a few minutes. This was a bond Tivon _cherished_ , one he wanted to develop and bring to blossom, and he wanted to do this _right_. To speak, to get to know the sylvari, to laugh and then... _Maybe, just maybe..._

“If you look close enough.”, the sylvari answered mysteriously and then gestured toward a platform ahead, separated only by a thin plank that lead across. “Just there, come on.”

Tivon followed him, the planks were warm under his toes from the exposure of the sun, the glare of sunlight a wonderful addition to the natural beauty of this place. A soft breeze swished over them, brought the leaves on their heads and armor to rustle softly and Tivon's eyes stared at the sylvari's back, watched the relaxed, curving movements of his shoulders and hips as he walked, the way his feet met the ground and rolled over the surface, the way his hands so easily swayed beside his body. Tivon was so lost in the ever-moving pattern that he startled when the Sylvari came to a halt and gestured toward three podests, marble and white and sparkling, each holding a crystal.

He recognized the sun crystal and gasped as he stepped closer. “There are more?”, he asked breathlessly, held out his hand and hovered over a blue crystal that made the air permeate with a cool breeze that whirled softly around the polished surface.

“Sun, Air and Lightning.”, the sylvari nodded. “With these you can easily maneuver this place.”

“What do Air and Lightning do?”

“Aren't you a curious one?”, the sylvari jested and laughed. “Touch them and find out.”

Tivon did as he was asked and slowly lowered his hand, felt the cool, smooth surface under his fingertips when a lofty, light feeling lifted in his chest, he felt _lighter_ , easily carrier away by a breeze and with his other hand he reached out for the purple crystal that charged and hummed in the air with electrostatic, so evidently lightning that it left no doubt in Tivon's mind, but made him so much more curious.

“Oh.”, he made when the crystal discharged through him, setting his limps into a trembling, charged state that made him tense, ready to jump like a tense, tauntingly pulled string. _Like my bow, and I am the arrow._

He beamed at the sylvari behind him and was greeted with a warm, tender, _beautiful_ smile that stole Tivon's breath away. The sylvari nodded in encouragement and craned his neck to look up toward a platform that was far over their heads. Tivon understood without even words. _Try getting up there,_ the sylvari said and Tivon took a deep breath, imagined he was an arrow pulling into a taunt string, wrung ready to be let loose, imagined his destination, imagined the air swishing by and when he jumped his body _lifted_ , weightless and _light_ , high into the air that his stomach lurched when the cliff blurred before his eyes, smears of dark and grey and then the platform was there, beneath him and he slowed slightly, aloft and floating before dropping down. He swung his arms and legs, dropped forward and landed, rolled over his shoulder and stood, _stood._ Steady, exhilarated, breath coming in rash, heaving breaths and he beamed, was not even surprised when the sylvari was right there in front of him, greeting him at his destination.

“This is...”, Tivon breathed out, made a few steps forward and turned around once, slowly, to take in the new view, the height, felt the sheer rapture of this elation and came to halt about half a meter away from the sylvari, meeting his eyes and the world slowed, made his mind dishevelled and churning, left him _breathless_. “This is amazing.”

The sylvari's eyes studied him, eyes locked and contemplating, gaze and features unreadable as though a mask was latched into his features, but even under that level scrutiny Tivon felt none of his elation lessen. If anything his body pulsed with warmth under the gaze and he forced himself to take even, deep breaths. “It is.”, the sylvari slowly murmured, and the way he said it left it open to interpretation what exactly it was that he meant, words so ambiguous and soft that they reached Tivon's core and soul.

_Maybe, Just maybe..._

“I'll, uhm,” Tivon made and cleared his throat, broke the tense moment before the strings of gravity could pull him in again. “I'll...go. Explore.” By the Pale Tree, his throat felt tight and he was aware of how awkward he was behaving, but the sylvari gave him a smile that made it all worthwhile.

“Be careful.”, the sylvari said and his eyes drifted over the cliffs, the platforms that were separated by a wide gap of air that ended in a deadly fall should one attempt to cross thoughtlessly.

Tivon wanted to reach out, to touch the sylvaris shoulder, or hand, _anything_ that was allowed, but he did not give himself that. It was rash, too fast, too _urgent_ , a desire and need that Tivon wanted to tame lest he lose himself. He unconsciously wet his lip and took a deep breath before he nodded and turned away, and those eyes, those _beautiful, capturing eyes_ stared into his back with the intensity of the glare of the sun, hot and scalding.

It was only when Tivon jumped once again, surfing through the air, feeling light and weightless, the wind cool and rushing over his body, higher and higher until and staring out toward the horizon and savoring the view anew that his mind slowly calmed, even if the pulse in his chest remained where the sylvari had managed to embed himself underneath Tivon's bark, deep, deep deep within, under hardened layers of armor, bark, under skin. So deep that Tivon was sure if someone attempted to pluck that from him, they would have to punch a hole through his chest and tear if from the fibres within – and that, he was certain, nobody could do, and he smiled at the soft, tender warmth that filled him, and even if he had never felt so before, even if all he knew about it was from the various experiences and knowledge gained through the Dream of Dreams, he was sure that this was what _Love_ felt like.

  


Tivon spent days around the Zephyr Sanctum and ignored the masses and crowds that seemed to amass around the Bazaar. Even Kiel was here, he had found out, but she was surrounded by many, many people, humans and charr and norn and asura, and it was only when she wrote him a letter that it finally made sense that she was here.

The death of the Lion's Arch council member had left a seat in the Ship's Council that was open – and now they were searching to replace it. Kiel, apparently, had been appointed a Captain of one of the Aetherblade ships, and therefore she was eligible for the election. Her plan was to win a trading contract with the Zephyrites to win the council seat, but a charr named Evon Gnashblade fought her, his aim akin to hers.

It was now that they were conversing in a political manner, trying to discredit each other through campaigns and advertisement, and Tivon had to admit he didn't know anything about such arrangements at all and was glad to be left out – but he had, in the middle of the night when nobody had seen him scurry over the grass plane toward the card boxes for the election - voted for Kiel. The Master of Peace, the leader of the Zephyrites, had insisted that the people decide who was best suited to fulfil this contract – and as such Tivon had felt that his voice may be small, but that he would support Kiel however he could.

The elections would today and the winner would be announced, but Tivon was content to watch from afar, and even he, oblivious and ignorant in the political manner of this conflict, felt a throb of anxiety and nervousness flush through him as he waited for the announcement that would come at dusk.

The sun was settling at the horizon, glimmer and sparkling over the surface, and even though Tivon had seen his share of sunsets and sunrises, he could watch them everyday and find another quality that took his breath away, another small detail that he had missed all the other times before, and marvel again and again at the fact that, however hard they all tried to have an impact, Tyria turned and turned and turned, that every day the sun would rise anew. That a new day would come.

There was one place he had been unable to reach thus far. The highest platform, so far away that the gap loomed like a death-trap and made his body spike in fearful anxiety, and he crouched at the cliff once again, studying the distance, fighting with himself to attempt it – and yet a voice told him that he could not. That it was too far away, that he would never reach.

He had tried from below, to jump high and high with the air around his body lifting him into a weightless feather, but the charges had run out long before he had reached half its height. If he combined all three, air, sun and lightning, perhaps he could make it. Jump high, charge forward with the guidance of the sun, and then charge up and cling to that small platform that was just below the massive, big one that was his target. He would have two charges of each left and he would easily jump atop, atop the world, atop _everything_ , and his body pound with exhilaration at the idea to stand atop that gilded platform, just to be alone, to be a small bead against the darkening sky from below, _the one who dared._

He stood and took a deep breath, closed his eyes and felt for the charges inside him, channeled them into his limps and wondered briefly what it would be like without them, what being without magic would feel like. He would miss this, once he had to return to the way he was before, once he had to say goodbye to this section of his experience, and he hoped desperately that all the knowledge he had gathered, the that elation and beauty and _exhilaration_ travelled over the strings that weaved his body and soul to the dream and into the pool of memories that unborn sylvari could tap into.

 _Oh_ , that would be wonderful. If they could see the world through his eyes. Full and bright and large, larger than the small life they all lead, and just as much a part of them as all the relations and friendships they all formed over the course of their life.

With a smile Tivon pulled the strings of the power granted to him by the crystals like the chord on a harp, sweet and vibrating and he tensed, slowly moved, moved, faster, faster, ran and then jumped into the air, the depth looming beneath his feet, water glittering beneath and the air rushed past as he charged upward, light and exalted, his stomach giving a content churn at the feeling of weightlessness. The warmth of the sun spread into his limps and he charged forward, a gleam and streak of gold and bronze like a shooting star, forward in a slow, bending arc that lead downward, but as the charge ended he called the lightning, sizzling and electric in his veins, and felt its pull taunting and tight, plucked him from the air, high and high and his body somersaulted, the world twisted and turned and _swirled_ and he saw that platform before him, just a little bit further ahead before the pull snapped and broke, he hovered for just a moment, the platform barely an arms length away and he fell, the gravity drawing him down.

His fingers reached out to grasp something, _anything_ , and miraculously a hand grasped his arm and _yanked_ , pulling his body taunt and his body swung from side to side and he gasped, lifted his dazed eyes with a heavy pulse thrumming in his ears, and there, above him, kneeling and arm stretched out to grasp his forearm in a tight lock was the sylvari, beautiful, eyes squinted just slightly at the exertion and Tivon wanted to laugh, but all that escaped him was a chocked breath.

His hand grasped the sylvari's forearm in return, clinging and holding on tight and his body lurched at the thought that beneath him loomed a fall that could very well _kill_ him if his body crashed onto stone adorning the shores in the water, but the exhilaration that thrummed even into his fingertips made it hard to think f that quite finite end.

With a grunt the sylvari pulled and Tivon reached out with his other hand for the platform, grasped it beneath his fingers and was surprised by the sheer _strength_ the sylvari could summon, that even without Tivon pushing himself up the male would have easily pulled him up all by himself.

When his body slipped onto the warm wood, his hand still clutching the sylvari's forearm, he could not hold back a chuckle, and slowly it turned into a full laugh that was so contagious even the sylvari chocked out a laugh with a shake of his head.

“You are mad.”, the sylvari said with a chuckle. “Absolutely crazy.”

“But I _made_ it.”, Tivon chortled and held his stomach as laughter made him shake from head to toe. “Oh, thorns, that was so close -”, he giggled and then, slowly, took a deep, content breath before he met the sylvari's eyes. “Thanks.” They sat in front of each other, Tivon with his legs bent and to the side, the sylvari kneeling and their arms still entwined and holding on, gravity unspooling between them once more, strings that latched onto their bodies unseen and pulled, taunt and powerful, and the breath left Tivon like a punch to the chest, the smile on his lip a soft curl that faded when their eyes met.

“I told you I'd watch you.”, the sylvari said in barely a whisper and in the distance Tivon heard the announcers voice over the massive speaker, voice echoing from the cliffside, announcing the beginning of the final event, but Tivon barely paid attention. His eyes focused on the gilded features of the sylvari before him, showered in the glow of the sun and _Thorns,_ when had the pull begun? When had Tivon been trapped to the point that tearing his eyes away was equal to having them plucked from his skull, an ache that he did not want to commit to?

“Yeah.”, Tivon said breathy, lacking any other words and he gulped down, hoping to ease the tightness in his throat that settled there like a cord around his neck, preventing him to breathe. “I...I thought you might.”

The sylvris lips curled into a beautiful, wicked smile. “Were you counting on it?”, the male asked with a low, hushed voice and Tivon shivered, the fingers curling against his skin with a promise of _more_. “That I would save you again?”

Again? What did he mean, again? But the confusion was there for only a split second before Tivon remembered the purple line, woven into the air like a mirage, reflecting the shot that had been aimed at his chest. “That...that was _you_ .”, Tivon breathed as realization dawned upon him like the sun, and _oh_ , how stupid he had been, _Of course_ it had been the sylvari, of course he had saved him, he had been there, protecting him -

Fondness blossomed in Tivon's chest and his lips parted, his eyes dropped, unconsciously, and as they settled on the sylvari's lips he inhaled sharply and tore his eyes away when _desire_ threatened to take a hold of him, grasping and clutching, a prison that he would not be able to escape. The hand on his forearm gripped tighter, _tighter,_ keeping him from running and Tivon took a staccato breath that hitched almost deafeningly loud. “Look at me.”, the sylari demanded, but Tivon closed his eyes, fought the pull, the gravity that felt as though he was the tide answering to the pull of the moon, swooshing and washing and unable to resist, and he fought it until he felt almost nauseas. “ _Tivon._ ”, the sylvari said, voice _low_ and dangerous, fingers digging into Tivons arm. “ _Look at me._ ”

“I- I can't.”, Tivon chocked out helplessly, body trembling, and by the Pale Tree he was making a fool of himself again, he was so twisted and wanton and _unrefined_ , he didn't deserve anything the sylvari gave him so willingly. With how his mind played it out in his head, with how he imagined things that he _shouldn't,_ how could he be worthy of anyone? Of anything? “I can't. I can't.”, he demurred and his chest clenched painfully. “I'll... _thorns_ , I'll do something stupid.”

“Like what?”, the sylvari asked, inched closer, and it was suddenly stifling hot, Tivon could barely breathe, chest moving staggering and labored. His head spun, much like the time he had somersaulted, only that this time he was tugged closer, he wasn't falling, no, his mind was turning lighter and lighter, hazy, drifting and drowned by emotion and desire and he _fought_ with all he had, clenching the forearm under his palm.

“I'm sorry.”, Tivon said, sadly, broken, ragged, eyebrows drawn together and features so twisted he looked _in pain._ “I'm sorry, so sorry, I-” His words, stuttered and wrecked as they stumbled from his mouth broke when a hand rose to his cheek, glided down toward his chin and an electric pulse went through him, he made a strangled, chocking noise and lifted his eyelashes, his chin tilted by the sylvari's hand firmly to _look_ at him.

“Tell me.”, the sylvari demanded with a level voice, eyes glowing beautifully in the receding sunlight, pattern glowing softly and sparkling to life. Tivon's breath caught, the feathery pull of a birds wing, but he could not tear his eyes away. It pulled, clutched that part in his chest where he cherished the sylvari, nearly tore it out from his chest and he realized that he could not run, that despite the fact that he was strange, twisted, wanton, that the sylvari deserved the truth, that Tivon might _loose_ him, and the thought crushed him like an avalanche.

“Don't...think less of me.”, Tivon begged, and whatever he had thought this conversation might go, every preparation made lying awake in the dead of night was drained from his brain and the words flooded free as the emotion washed through him, “I yearn, yearn _so_ much to be with you, to touch, I can't _think_ when you are close, I can't _breathe_ , and thorns, I dream of you, day and night, _always_ , and I think I am _obsessed_ , that I am _mad_ , that I am _loosing_ my mind. And I want so much that it stifles and frightens me, I _want_ so much it hurts. The desire is crushing my chest, and I know it's not normal that I think of you like this, and...I am terrified of loosing you, that I will push you away, that I _want_ too much, that -”

“Tivon.”, the sound of his own name made Tivon freeze and he realized that the sylvari had slowly risen onto his knees, slightly taller, larger, and Tivon craned his neck to look into his eyes, _afraid_ and terrified that the sylvari would pull away, eyes wide and fingers clutching so hard his fingers felt numb. _No, no, don't pull away, please,_ Tivon thought, but he couldn't speak, the words died when the fear coiled around his throat like a string and _pulled._ “That's-”, the sylvari began, and then, wonderfully, miraculously, a smile curled at the edges of the sylvari's mouth and hope flared in Tivon's chest, that this wasn't over, that _Maybe, just maybe..._ “You adorable idiot.”, the sylvari accused, with no heat weaving into the words at all, and his fingers trailed over Tivon's trembling jaw, leaving a trail of warmth where he touched and Tivon inhaled sharply, head spinning and spiralling out of control when the sylvari shifted forward on his knees, leaned his head down slowly, ever so _slowly_ and kissed Tivon chastely on the lips.

Tivon chest, head, his _soul_ imploded, curling in tightly innside of him and for once, for the only time he felt closed, healed, _whole._ He felt the lips, soft and warm and sweet, against his own and sighed, his body, tense and wound up like a spring, relaxed into the touch and he slumped forward, leaning _in_ , into the touch, the sensation and the fingers on his jaw gripped a little tighter, the sylvari titled his head and Tivon followed the movement, meeting the lips with a slide of his own, hot breath caressing over his pale, birch-colored cheeks that felt unnaturally hot.

He lifted his hand, trembling and shivering, placed it loosely on the sylvari's shoulder and rested it there, the shoulder warm under his palm, the soft curls of stems and leaves rustling under his fingertips, and _Oh_ , he couldn't believe this was happening, that he was _kissing_ , that he was -

He made a startled and surprised noise when the sylvari's tongue, soft and wet, glided and slid over his lower lip and Tivon gasp-moaned, opened his lips almost instinctively and the tongue slipped into his mouth, hot and wet, and he was not even aware when his body completely gave in and fell pliant into the sylvari's arms, giving himself over completely, resigning all control, all that he was and the sylvari hummed in approval against his lips and caught him by the shoulders, held him steady and leaned even further in, tongue tracing the lines in Tivon's mouth and he moaned breathy at the pleasure that shot up from his back into his head and short-circuited all his thoughts.

The sylvari pulled back just slightly and Tivon whimpered in the wake of the retreat, was rewarded with a sharp yet pleasurable spike that thrummed from his lip where the sylvari bit softly into the flesh and Tivon keened when the sylvari's tongue darted over the bitten flesh, coddling and apologetic before retreating completely.

Tivon was flushed, eyes opening with a hazed and ruttish expression and was greeted with similar, desiring eyes that stared at him like an animal _starved_ for decades. Their breaths mingled, hot and ghosting over skin that left Tivon shivering and aching for more, but he realized, quite contently, that the part that had _feared_ , that had screamed and scrambled _Maybe, just maybe_ , purred inside him with a pleased and content thrum.

Their eyes locked, and the gravity that bloomed to life was threatening, chocking, pulling so strongly that Tivon had to hold back a groan at the thought that he could – that he _wanted to -_ lean in again, and not be stopped. The eyes were full of _want,_ full of _desire_ , and oh, how had he not seen?

“I really am.”, he finally brought out, never breaking the gaze and was rewarded with a tender, soft smile that was like the sky opening after years of storm and rain. The gravity between them eased in intensity the longer their gazes held, but it was there, vibrant and humming in the air like its very own dormant magic, but the pull was noting against the urge in Tivon's chest, that he needed to convey, words that he needed to _say_. He gulped and nervously shifted his fingers, feeling the sylvari's shoulder under his palm, and _By the Pale Tree_ , if that alone wasn't enough to unmake him. “I...know I don't...that we don't...” He stumbled over the words, like a newborn tumbling over its own feet and he took a deep breath, a voice in his head accusing him that he was being an idiot once again, _Can't you form a single, coherent sentence, just once?_ The voice accused, and _Thorns_ , he was trying, but he had never been good with _this_. “I want this.”, Tivon finally brought out, a sentence short enough that even he could not stutter through it. “I want...this. Us. And...I am bad at this. New. Terrified. And...an idiot. And...”, he was babbling nonsense now because under those contemplating eyes he felt he needed to speak, to explain, but the words tumbled free, without any coherence and logic even he knew that nobody could possibly understand what he was trying to say. “Thorns.”, he cursed and shook his head in dismay. He was making a mess of this, again, and again, and again, and _how_ would that work, ever?

“Oh Tivon.”, the sylvari chuckled, and the sound softened all the aches in Tivons chest, eased his tension, made courage bloom to lift his lashes and look once more, and the mirth in the sylvari's eyes was worth all the awkwardness he had caused, was worth all his idiocy. How, how, oh _how_ was the sylvari still here, with him, laughing at him, smiling that wonderful, beautiful smile as though Tivon was delightful, as if he were _funny_ , as if there was anything to _love_ about him, at all? Tivon fell, all over again, fell into that soft cup of warmth where the feelings of tenderness and happiness and love nestled under his skin, cosy and embracing, the part where the sylvari had made a place in Tivon's chest, forever to remain. A warm hand braced against Tivons cheek and he _melted_ into the touch, leaned into it like a cat starved for affection, and the sylvari's smile grew, revealing dimples on his cheeks. “You are the absolute _worst_ with words.”

A chuckle came from Tivon's throat, delightful and content, and he couldn't help but smile apologetic. “I'm sorry.”, Tivon said, the words bubbling free, and the sylvari slowly began to chuckle as well until they both sat, chuckling at themselves and _this_ , all of it, _them_ , and the sylvari leaned forward and rested his forehead against Tivons, light, feathery, a wonderful gesture of closeness and comfort, warm breath ghosting over Tivon's cheek and Tivon found no words to describe the joy that filled his chest and almost made him burst, and just as he thought that he might a firework sizzled into the air and banged loudly in the sky, made the both of them look up in surprise as the colors exploded in the darkness and drifted toward the ground in flickering motions before dimming into nothingness.

Distantly he heard the cheers, but however far away and faded they were, he heard, clearly, the crowd cheering the name “ _Kiel!”_ , roaring and thunderous, and at once Tivon knew that she had won, that she would be on the ships council, and _Oh_ , it was as though the universe had finally pieced everything together and Tivon leaned into the sylvari's embrace, closer, closer, _yearning_ for that warmth that made his body and soul sing.

 _I love you,_ he thought, and breathed in the sweet scent of lavender and grass and _spring_ , and blinked in surprise when the sylvari shifted and brought two hands to cup his cheeks, made him look up into that dark face that glittered with an embroided white pattern that sparkled to life like a pulse, gently and softly, the breath caught and trapped in his chest. “Be mine.”, the sylvari said tantalizing, a question, demand and plea, all in one, and Tivon could do nothing but drown in those eyes, hands trembling against the sylvari's shoulders and his soul _yearned_ and _screamed_ , _Yes, yes, I'll be yours, I am, with all I have, all that I am,_ and he breathed, slowly, chocking on his happiness when his chest opened wide to the sylvari and tears sparkled in his pale, evergreen eyes.

“I am yours.”, Tivon whispered and sighed contently when the sylvari met his lips, a little more demandingly than their first kiss, melting into the touch and far above their heads the fireworks exploded in cascades and showers of colors, as if the universe itself celebrated their magnetic, inexplicable bond as it bloomed and unravelled between them, humming to life to bind them together.

And if anyone had bothered to check the sky, they would have noticed two small beads of glimmering, faint light in the distance, yellow and white like two new-born stars on the firmament.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Well? Tell me if you liked it :3 Or if you didn't, why. I want to learn, after all :D Love you guys, lessthanthree!


	8. The Queens Jubilee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. This chapter. I can't wait until we finally get closer to bringing the band together, and I wanted to make sure there was an ACTUAL friendship between Rox, Braham and Tivon happening, which is why I added some extra dialogue of mine.  
> Where is the new update Anet? I need Braham back. q_q Especially now when I am thrown and dragged through this nostalgia.  
> Oh, and did anyone notice that woman at the astralarium saying "Aren't you Canach's crony?" and I had to laugh. SO. HARD. Because of my whole Shade/Canach story. Still cracks me up. Hah.  
> Ah, I am getting side-tracked. Enjoy this chapter, my friends. <3

“Their airships float with the magic from the crystals?”, Tivon asked curiously and glanced up at the large Zephyrite airship, called the Zephyr's Sanctum, from where he sat cross-legged on the ground, munching happily on a ripe, yellow-ish fruit that had a sweet taste.

“For years at a time, I was told.”, the sylvari beside him answered, eyes trailing over the pale, brown sails that bloated slightly in the breeze. “So they are a part of your Dream?”

Tivon nodded. “I saw them, if only briefly. Beautiful brown sails and crystals wings, and then...”, he hesitated, not because he did not want to share the details of his dream, no, but because his chest tightened when he remembered that distant land, thorns and vines entwining to form a twisting network of undergrowth and darkness, and there, lurking in the shadows, powerful, like a giant snake beneath the surface of the earth -

“Tivon.”, the sylvari said and Tivon startled when a hand came to rest on his shoulder, tearing him from his reverie, a short moment of time where he had stared absently ahead, lost in his own thoughts.

“Ah.”, he made and gulped. “S-sorry.”

“You are shacking.”, the sylvari murmured and drew him closer protectively, brought an arm around Tiovn's shoulders and _Oh_ , it eased so much of his tension, grounded him again, made the fear and swell of anxiety falter and ebb away into a faint echo of the terror he always felt when he thought of the shadows lurking in a land that was yet to be uncovered. He leaned into the touch, rested his forehead against the crook of the sylvari's neck and breathed in his scent, made a content hum in response that was a faint sigh, breath tickling along the sylvari's neck.

“There's this...dark shadow, somewhere, lurking beneath a sea of moss-green vines, beneath the dirt and the earth, in the darkness, and...”, Tivon took a deep breath, his fingers digging slightly into the sylvaris arms and felt the arms around his shoulder pull him closer in return. “And I don't know what it means. Vanquish the evil? Cleanse the land? Heal it? I don't know, but it calls me.”

The sylvari hummed, a sign that he had heard and to ease Tivon's anxiety, and Tivon melted into the contact and the vibration, leaned into the curve of the sylvari's body, found that they fitted so _perfectly_ together they may have been born as one – and torn apart on awakening, two parts of the same seed, two parts of one, perfect whole. “It'll come to you.”, the sylvari soothed and brushed a gentle hand through Tivon's ferns, brushing them back over his head and a prickle like goosebumps travelled over his scalp and his back, a delicious shiver that made him tremble softly.

Vail made a noise that made Tivon look up and tear away from the comforting embrace, and the white Raven stared at him with squinted, accusing eyes, eyes full of _jealousy_ and disapproval that Tivon chuckled and he noticed a piece of parchment in the raven's claws. “Is that for me?”, he asked and stretched out his hand. The raven responded by hopping toward him eagerly, head leaning down to brush against his hand, a sign of starved affection and Tivon smiled fondly and wondered if one could feel _so_ happy all the time and not burst. Vail crowed at him and Tivon gentle caressed the ravens head down toward its feathery back and that seemed to appease the white Raven, the claws clutching the parchment opening until the letter rolled free. “Thank you.”, Tivon smiled and took the letter carefully, moving slightly away from the sylvari because he knew if he stayed in the sylvari's space, if he knew all it took was to reach out to lean back into the warmth of the comfortable embrace, he would never manage to concentrate.

_Tivon,_

_I know it has been quite a while, but I am not writing to catch up on how you have been. Tribune Rytlock Brimstone had sent me as his replacement to attend the Queen's Jubilee in Divinity's Reach and he told me I can bring whomever I like. Yes, that means you, and Derry and Vail too. I'll sent a missive to Braham as well, just to check if he's not rusty._

_I'll see you there,_

_\- Rox._

“It's Rox.”, Tivon beamed and looked up at the sylvari. “The charr I met in the Black Citadel.”

“I remember.”, the sylvari murmured and inched closer, close enough that the scent of lavender wafted into Tivon's nose, close enough to look over Tivon's shoulder and skim over the lines. For a second he was quiet before he spoke, “You will head to Divinity's Reach then?” Why was the voice so level? It sounded almost forced, like the tip of a spear dragging over the sheet of ice.

“Of course. Won't you join me?”, Tivon asked and cast the sylvari a worried glance, their faces so close, but even then Tivon could not read the guarded expression the sylvari had. Even though they were so close, even though they were _together_ , Tivon knew so little about the sylvari that he loved with all he had to offer. Despite their closeness there was something guarded, something _hidden_ , and quite despite himself Tivon found that all the more intriguing. Whatever secret it was, whatever things the sylvari carried – Tivon would wait, patiently and lovingly, because what was love if not unconditional?

“I will be with you.”, the sylvari murmured and inched _away_ , and Tivon suddenly felt cold, alone, _stranded_. “But not beside you.” The sylvari looked torn, a difficult expression on his face that was partly contemplating, lost somewhere far away, and a mixture of pain.

“Hey.”, Tivon murmured softly and lifted his hand, touched the sylvari's cheek with his palm, could not bear to see the pain in those beautiful features, wanted his love to smile, and slowly those eyes looked up at him, focused once again. “That's alright.”, Tivon soothed. “It's alright.”

The sylvari's hand rose to cup his own and an electric charge sizzled through Tivon's fibres, through his whole body and he gulped at the nervous tingle in his stomach. “Stay safe.”, the sylvari murmured, and Tivon's chest clenched at the sweetness of that implication and he smiled.

“I'll be.”, Tivon answered and then inched closer, leaned in, bowed forward and brushed their lips tenderly together. “I'll be safe.”

And as their lips touched Vail very nearly rolled his eye and flew off into the air with an annoyed crow.

 

“Rox!”, Tivon greeted with a wave of his hand and Derry darted forward with an eager pace, only halted a few inches short of crushing into Frostbite and sniffled at the devourers shell and jumping around Frostbite in bouncing circles. The female charr watched their pets with a bemused smile and her green eyes gleamed with an equal joy at seeing Tivon.

“You're here”, she smiled, but even though her words implied it, there had not been a doubt in her mind that Tivon would show. “Now it's party.”

“Heh.”, Tivon grinned and looked at the small hole that Frostbite had dug to hide himself from the hounds attention, and Derry barked at the dark latch in the ground in dismay. “You probably scared him, Derry.”, Tivon teased and the hound whined, slowly came up toward Tivon and brushed against his calves and he caressed the hounds head idly in consolation. “So, where is Braham?”

“About to-”, Rox was about to say, and got interrupted.

“Ho!”, a loud, booming voice sounded, unmistakable deep and bearish, and from the stairs, slowly descending down into the pavilion was none other than Braham, broad and tan just as Tivon remembered. The norn sauntered closer, a large shield resting on his large back, the mace swinging from a holster on his hip as he moved.

“Braham!”, Tivon smiled and moved up to meet the norn, raised his hand and Braham did the same, both hands meeting mid air and holding in a tight grip, and Braham gave him a sheepish grin.

“What's this?”, Braham asked and gripped his hand, made a waving notion where there hands were entwined, easily swaying Tivon from side to side with his brutish strength. “Been skipping on your meals?”

Tivon managed to break free and laughed, glad to finally feel his fingers again. “It's good to see you.”

“You too.”, Braham grinned and nodded toward Rox who strolled closer, Frostbite shacking off pieces of dirt from his short adventure beneath the surface. “About time you called for some action. What's this about?”

“Tribune Brimstone sent me to be his replacement and attend the ceremony.”, Rox explained.

“So, where's the trouble that needs beating up?”, Braham asked, knocking his hands together and blue eyes glazing over the place. “I could use a warm-up.”

“It's just a precaution. This is, after all, a ceremony where the queen herself will attend. It could invite trouble, or not.”, Rox shrugged, and then lowly added, more to herself. “I am hoping for 'not'.”

“Bah.”, Braham made. “It's been all too quiet since the Vigil took down the Molten Facilities. Don't get me wrong, Hoelbrak is still a mess, but things are looking up again.”

“There was an incident with the Consortium on Southsun Cove and a group called the Aetherblades.”, Tivon informed him, and Braham raised his dark eyebrows.

“Aetherblades?”

“Yeah.”, Tivon nodded and continued, “I helped Kiel find their base, and she's informed me that more of the Aetherblade's hideouts have been found and neutralized. It seems strange – almost too much of a coincidence – that enemies suddenly start banding together to form alliances. The Aetherblades were formed from, well, Pirates, and Inquest.”

“Rutty inquest.”, Rox growled and bared her fangs and her green eyes seemed to darken. “Those big headed, large-eared asura have their greasy fingers in everything, don't they?”

“It's just...”, Tivon murmured and then took a deep breath. “Something tells me its wrong, you know? Like, my leaves are all itchy.” As if to demonstrate he scratched his neck and Braham's eyebrows raised even higher.

“Well, I have no leaves, but I sure as hell don't like it when my enemies fraternize. Best to have two eyes open than one halfway closed, I guess.”

“Safety first.”, Rox agreed. “Which is why I asked you to come.”

“And also why you have about a dozen luck-charms hidden beneath your tunic.”, Braham teased her, but Rox wasn't offended. Instead she straightened her leather tunic that covered her chest with a hand, almost idly, but Tivon knew she was arranging the many necklaces beneath.

“It doesn't hurt to invite luck.”, she shrugged with a grin. “Come on, I don't want to be late. If word got to the Tribune that I started my task by being delayed he'll flail me with the nearest blunt instrument he can find.”

“He is...a charming fellow.”, Tivon murmured and got a chuckle from Rox as an answer.

“ _You_ are not trying to impress him. _I_ want to join his warband, after all.”

“I am sure he'll have no choice _but_ to take you in.”, Tivon smiled at her encouragingly, the three of them walking abreast, the pets behind them, circling, chirping, barking and crowing playfully.

“I hope so. There, ahead.”, she nodded toward a platform that was formed in a circle, the outer ring a dark fence that made it look like a prison. In the center stood three figures that Tivon barely recognized; one was the legendary Logan Thackery, human guardian and member of Destiny's Edge. Beside him stood a beautiful woman in a brilliant white dress that accentuated her curves perfectly and rested low on her all-too-brittle-looking shoulders, curving over her chest an revealing the tanned skin just above her cleavage. Her dark hair framed her tanned face and flowed over her shoulders in gentle curls, but she held her chin high and her determined eyes left no doubt that she was royalty, through and through, and Tivon realized that she must be Queen Jennah.

Beside the Queen stood a woman with auburn hair wearing a formal dress in the color of royal blue, her very presence sending a shiver over Tivon's back. There was something in that smile, those dark, scrutinizing and testing eyes that took in _everything_ and _everyone_ that made her look like a cat observing, watching, _waiting_. Ready to pounce. Ready to Strike. Dangerous.

When Rox finally settled in her place around the ring like many other spectators and representatives had Tivon let his green eyes idly wander, taking it all in. This was, in all its construction and purpose, an _area_. The circle was but the very center and surrounding it were various areas, artificially created and filled with creatures that humanity had bested, since this was a celebration for humanity's endurance in their battles. Perhaps this too, as the Dragon Bash had been, was a reminder that strength could come from various, unexpected places, alongside the festive celebration of Queen Jennah's 10 th year of reign.

Above his head, so very far he was reminded how many steps had lead them down here, was a dome made from glass. Sunlight glittered through in long, thin streaks, reaching even here so far below and Tivon yearned to feel it warm upon his skin again and not filtered through a layer of an artificial and transparent wall. To have clear, blue sky over his head, perhaps feel a drop of rain. But humans, for some reason, shirked that kind of exposure. They built their places cosy, small, cornered, closed off into blocks of cement and stone that was cold to the touch. Sometimes Tivon saw no love nor warmth in that which humans built – the only warmth came only ever when looking through a window onto a family bathed in a firelight, sitting at a large, wooden table and laughing.

Family. Friends. Those things were what brought warmth into what humans created, but the buildings themselves were stark, bare, cold. He wondered if humans meant to fill them with warmth, or if they were oblivious to the eventual ruin they were building.

The Queen stepped forward with calculated, steady steps, the hem of her brilliant white dress brushing over her legs with each swing of her hips. A hush fell over all those that had assembled immediately, as if they had all been wtching her from the corner of their eyes and her hands were folded neatly in front of her, and as she began to speak she unfolded them into a wide, greeting gesture.“Welcome, one and all, to Divinity's Reach. And welcome to the newly opened Crown Pavilion.”, she greeted with a rich, gentle voice. “As the city celebrates my tenth year as Kryta's monarch, we also celebrate the resilience of the human spirit. Since my coronation, humanity has withstood test upon dreadful test, yet it endures. We endure. And we always shall. We reclaimed the Great Collapse and made it a gathering place, an arena to celebrate humanity's fighting spirit. I hereby present the watchknights, my gift to Divinity's Reach and a symbol of our renewed bonds of community, duty, and shared destiny.”

From above, seemingly from nowhere at all, a construction unlike any Tivon had ever seen suddenly sprung and landed in the circle in the middle, landing on two, long, metallic legs and looking ever so faintly as if it was made to look like a human, joints and curves and face, with the very distinct look of a marionette. It gleamed silver in the sunlight and rose to full height, so large Tivon had to crane his neck and a shiver ran over his back and idly he wondered where he would riddle it with arrows if it came to that, but the figure did not pay anyone any mind its glassy, lifeless eyes turned toward Queen Jennah and the construction sunk to one knee with a clatter and clank, a sign of submission. The motion was the only thing that kept Tivon's hand from pulling his bow from his shoulder, but the urge was in his fibres still, his instincts making a nervous prickle shiver over his bark.

The Queen seemed pleased and continued, her eyes wandering over the various other attendants that Tivon had barely bothered to notice; they were figures, bystanders at the edge of the circle, much like he, Braham and Rox were, but now that he looked he saw that among them the faces differed. Some looked appalled, angered, even. Others nonchalant, or even afraid, but none had drawn a weapon, and they all followed the words of the Queen attentively. “Join us in the arena for a demonstration of the watchknights' martial skill as they are tested by Kryta's finest champions. If you have the strength and the will, step forward and become part of Kryta's bold new future.”

Cheers erupted from all around, from far at the top where grandstands held other nobles that could watch and marvel at the festivities, even if they could not be close and were not allowed into the Queen's presence, and only then did Tivon realize his privilege and wondered if he was expected to express it. To be granted a chance to be in the presence of the Queen of humans, under a constricting dome of glass in an arena created to show the strength of humanity. Tivon suppressed the shiver barely. Just. Barely.

“Look at this place. Some say the humans are at the end of their rope, but you'd never guess it.”, Braham murmured, eyes trailing over the pavilion as well as the watchknight in awe. Why was it that the norn looked amazed? Tivon felt _caged_. Constricted by large, cold walls, the glass dome teasing with a promise of the real sky.

“I think that's the point: to demonstrate how well humanity is doing despite all their challenges. They're bringing in people from all over the world to show how tough they still are. I hope the queen isn't offended that I am here instead of Rytlock.”

“Don't worry: you brought me and Tivon along. Three of us is way better than one Rytlock.”, Braham grinned, flashing his bright teeth and Tivon chuckled lightly.

“Shhh!”, Rox made and leaned toward Braham, giving him a disapproving glance. “It's bad luck to slur your commanding officer. Especially when I'm trying to get into his warband.”

“Bah.”, Braham made and waved her comment away with a gesture of his large hand. “We can slur anyone we like.”, the red-headed norn grumbled and something in his gaze shifted, a frustration and anger boiling beneath that Tivon did not recognize, but Rox apparently did because she said,

“Try concentrating on the good time we're about to have instead of the vicious harpy who broke your heart.”

Braham snarled and his face twisted into an ugly grimace. He spat on the ground and then folded his arms in front of his chest, muscles across his upper arm rippling under his tanned skin at the motion. “I can't. All the joy has been taken from me. Ottilia–“, he growled out the name and looked as though he had bitten on something bitter, “I'll never love again.”

Tivon stared in shock and blinked up at the red-haired norn in confusion before he remembered the name from their time in Cragstead together. Had she not been the one who had held Braham's heart? But...what had happened to make the norn quite so bitter?

Braham continued acidly, “How could she throw me over like that? I hunted rabbits for her! Stupid, fluffy rabbits!”

“What happened?”, Tivon finally broke in, confused, eyebrows drawn together and Braham looked down at him. “I heard you mentioning her in Cragstead, and I had thought the Molten Alliance got her.”

“The Vigil liberated her from one of the facilities.”, Braham grumbled and was finding his gloves of particular interest, not meeting Tivon's eyes. “When she returned she met this merchant – and now she is going to travel with him.”

“Oh.”, Tivon made. “That...I am sorry.” Braham grimaced at that, and Tivon knew that words were barely any comfort to a broken heart. It was unfair that Braham, gruff and head-strong as he was, had been struck quite like this. There were many things that were easy to like, Tivon mused, and tried not to let his eyes wander over the broad shoulders. “You'll find someone. Eventually.”, he tried to encourage with a faint smile.

“Nah, thanks.”, Braham rumbled defiantly and began to pluck the glove from his fingers, then pulling them back on with a harsh motion, almost as if he hoped the fingers could poke and tear through the leather in his rage. “Never.”

“Here we go again.”, Rox rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Listen, I hear they've got some sort of battle arena in the middle of this party. Let's check it out.”

That seemed to lighten some of Braham's spirit. “Bury my pain in the joy of combat? I like it. Let's go.”

The way down into the various arenas was packed with eager adventurers, sell-swords, fighters from all around, a swarm and swirl of people that made the place entirely too packed for Tivon's liking, but he trailed after Rox and Braham, his eyes glazing over the area and taking it all in. The rocks loomed high here, the middle platform barely visible from here, and the many enemies and animals they face were nothing but illusions, but they made for a warm-up anyhow.

Braham sure enjoyed smashing his mace into the very nearest thing that moved and attacked him, and Rox was content to use this opportunity to train Frostbite in basic commands. The little devourer had grown since the last time Tivon had seen it, the shell more prominent and glistening under the light, a sharp tail with pointed pincers at the heel that he did not want to know the sting of.

The three of them worked together flawlessly, a symbiosis and understanding that was beyond any expertise. It was almost as if they were meant to fight together, fighting as one, and Tivon felt exhilaration rise at the thought. Braham was a front-line fighter, mace and shield offering him protecting and brutish strength, whereas Rox remained somewhere far back, riddling the enemies with arrows and Frostbite burrowing beneath the earth, surfacing only to catch an enemy unguarded. And Tivon? Tivon was something in between. He too preferred his bow, but the sword was a weapon he used whenever an enemy got too close. He could swing it almost as easily as he could shoot an arrow, his moves inspired by those of a precise, fast-striking snake. Dashing in, leaving a cut before rolling away, gliding through stances and remaining untouchable, slithering through the enemies defense, a dance that left him feeling lithe and nimble, a power in the grace of the movements.

“Well.”, Braham grinned when a small grub disappeared into a shatter under his mace and he turned his broad, wide shoulders around. “Not gonna lie. Best therapy ever.”

Rox was about to retort when her ears twitched and her head turned toward the side, and just a second passed before Tivon felt it too. The ground trembled under his feet, stones began to clatter and oscillate into the air and back to the ground, the sound of _hooves_ becoming louder and louder, until Tivon was sure a stampede was very near. “Get ready!”, Rox warned and Tivon tensed, waited behind Braham when around the bend of stone finally stormed the Centaurs they had been expecting.

They charged forward at them, so _many_ of them that Tivon lost count and the ability to estimate and he fought to stand his ground, grit his teeth when a lance clashed against the metal of his steel sword with a sharp, high noise and held the lance at bay with difficulty. The blade screeched over his and the centaurs eyes fixed on him, dark, squinted eyes that looked menacing and almost so very real that Tivon forgot for a moment that these were all illusion and pushed the centaurs attack back with a gruff. With a quick duck the lance swished over his head and his sword cut into the centaur's wide chest that looked like a human's before the resistance of skin was gone and Tivon's stumbled forward as the illusion shattered and the resistance under his blade lifted.

He caught his balance and whirled away when another lance aimed to impale him where he stood and he pirouetted out of the way behind the safety of a small gap, but the safety was only temporary when the three centaur illusions swarmed on him, lances aimed at where he stood, and he turned away just in time before the metal clanked against the rocks where his head and chest had been.

With his feet dashing over the ground, grass flattening beneath his soles and rustling as he ran he found himself faced with what looked like a small labyrinth of dark stone, crevices, gaps and fissures offering a spot to hide, but before he could seek shelter the thundering hooves behind him made him whirl around, birch and mint-green colored foliage atop his head swishing with the movement.

The lance came horizontally and Tivon bend his back and ducked beneath, the blade missing him by and inch and he breathed in surprise, whirled to the side and erected himself, shoulder and back smacking just an inch shy of hurting against a wall of rock and readied his sword to parry the next centaur that came at him with an over head slash when suddenly the illusion stilled mid-swing for an agonizing long second and Tivon stared, uncomprehending, sword lifted to block, when suddenly the illusion shattered in front of his eyes.

He drew in a ragged breath and blinked in confusion, but he felt the prickle of magic in the air, that hum of vibrant energy weaving and permeating everything and he recognized it, his stomach lurched in response and he blinked through the shattered illusion, the purple lines weaving into the air and slowly disappearing. Through it, appearing as if from thin air, Tivon saw the sylvari stand in the middle of the small grassy plane, one hand lifted into the air, fingers curled lightly, languidly and gracefully. With barely a wave of his hand he had made the illusions disappear, a power that was visible only because of the remaining purple glow that danced around his fingertips and palm, and Tivon's lips curled into a breathless smile. “You, here?”, he asked and cast a quick glance toward the platforms above where anyone could easily stare down into the arena, and perhaps, amidst all the chaos and the stone cliffs and crevices, make out the sylvari if coincidence allowed it, but he could see nobody.

The sylvari approached, lowering his still glowing hand and Tivon stood his ground, felt the anticipation curl in his belly like a hot, twisting river of lava and his lips were suddenly dry, but he redeemed that with a glide of his tongue. The sylvari followed the motion with his eyes, and the sparkle in them was...

 _Thorns_ , it was lascivious. Carnal. How, how, _how?_ And why? How had Tivon done _anything_ to deserve to be looked at like that? Each step the sylvari took toward him made him forget to breathe, to move, to do _anything_ at all related to _surviving_ , and when the sylvari was bare inches away, body heat engulfing him, pressing against him, head leaning down, Tivon _melted_ with a moan and craned his neck to meet those wonderfully, sinful lips that quirked into a smile, and then, just and inch short of kissing, the sylvari whispered with a breath, “I've come to steal a moment.” and Tivon didn't know _how_ he had gotten here, _how_ this had happened, but he would be damned if he put a stop to it now.

“Steal away.”, Tivon hushed, a mixture between a chuckle and a moan, and the sylvari pressed down, beautiful, sweet and soft lips gliding over Tivon's own, pressing down with achingly sweet pressure that had Tivon's body trembling and quivering. He opened his mouth to groan and the tongue slid inside, licking against his own in a soft, sweet dance that made heat hiss in Tivon's core and he leaned up, against the sylvari, to feel, to indulge, and their tongues played, wet, slick, and Tivon barely noticed that his hands came to rest against the sylvari's chest – not to push him away, thorns, nothing could compel him to do _that –_ no, it was to have something, _anything_ to hold on to and ground him with his head feeling so light and dizzy.

By the Pale Tree, Tivon felt himself burning, growing hot and hotter in steady, overwhelming pulses that threatened to wash over him, a sweltering heat that swirled inside him and made him forget absolutely. Everything.

Until.

“Tivon!”, a voice tore through his haze, terrifyingly close and Tivon broke away, startled, out of breath and dishevelled, blinking up in surprise. The sylvaris eyes darted toward the side for a split second and then came to rest on Tivon.

“We have to...”, Tivon brought out, but the sylvari leaned down again, the words died in his throat with a rasp and a hitch of breath and the sylvari planted achingly sweet kisses along his jaw, below his lip, on his chin, and it was Tivon could do to lift his chin, let his head fall against the cool of stone behind him and not collapse under his own weight.

“Mhm.”, the sylvari made and then bit Tivon's lower lip, pulled and tugged it until it slipped free, just an inch too shy of actually hurting, and Tivon's legs nearly threatened to give out when the sylvari's tongue darted out to ease over the bite, alleviating the sting before the sylvari pulled away. Dark eyes met his own, and _thorns_ , Tivon thought he might melt under that gaze, he could feel the heat straining inside him, wanting to break free, to continue, but the voice was getting far too close.

“Tivon!”, Rox called out, worriedly, and the pang of guilt reached Tivon's chest and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

“Do I have your attention?”, the sylvari asked lowly, playfully, voice full of allusion and _fuck_ , Tivon couldn't breathe. “Because I'm _watching_ , Tivon.”

“Oh.”, Tivon made a sound that was broken and chocked and his legs trembled at the promise in those words, but the sylvari held him, hands pushing tightly against Tivon's arms, pressing him back against the jagged rocks that pressed almost painfully into Tivon's shoulders.

“Don't faint.”, the sylvari chuckled mirthfully beside his ear, hot breath ghosting over the shell and Tivon gripped even _tighter_ , needed to ground himself, but the sensation was _too_ much, too overwhelming, too -

“Tivon!”, Braham called, and thorns, he must be just around the bend judging from how loud Braham's voice was and panic flooded through Tivon. The sylvari grinned and finally stepped away, leaving Tivon only with his lascivious eyes staring at him, their heat invigorating and permeating the air, even despite the fact that the heat of the sylvari's body was no longer close, even though Tivon actually _shivered_ in its absence and the cool, soft wind that brushed over his skin.

He gulped in air, his lips slick and slightly swollen from the kiss, and the phantom of the sylvaris tongue against his own remained, made it hard for him to concentrate, to think, and he gulped and forced himself to look away, to avert his eyes and stare at the ground and with a stuttering breath Tivon let his eyes flutter closed to focus, to catch his labored breath in hope of looking as little as dishevelled as he felt, but he heard the heavy thuds of boots and the shift of Brahams clothing and the norn made a surprised noise just beside him. “By the wolf, are you alright?”, Braham asked and Tivon gulped and looked up, still catching his breath, cheeks feeling terribly hot, legs still trembling and back resting against the rock, his feet unable to hold his entire weight.

He tried to give Braham a weary smile and noticed that the sylvari was gone, but he could feel the eyes on him from the distance, _staring_ , glued to him, and that alone made a spike of heat flush through his system. “Yeah.”, Tivon chocked out and brought a hand through his grass-green ferns, pulling them back over his head to buy himself some time and an excuse to _not_ look at Braham. “Just...fine.”

Braham didn't press, only raised an eyebrow at him in question. “Why in bears name didn't you answer? Rox is probably spitting out lucky charms hoping to appease some strange deity to safe your leafy head from illusionary centaurs.”

Tivon chuckled at the image in his head, found it entirely _too_ fitting, and shook his head with an appeasing smile. “Sorry. It's not easy to yell when you're distracted.” His voice was quiet, low, and he gulped in the hope that he had not given himself away. He was such an utterly, terrible liar. Not that he had necessarily lied, but it certainly was not the entire _truth._

“Yeah, there was quite a swarm of centaurs after you. Sorry about that. Got distracted.”, Braham murmured and lifted a large hand to scratch at the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish and apologetic.

Tivon waved it way with a gesture of his hand, eternally grateful that Braham had misunderstood. “It's fine.”, he said and pushed away from the rocks, his legs feeling wobbly. He could still feel the sting on his bottom lip, but all it did was to remind him of the pleasure he had felt – and it all came resurfacing and unravelling in his chest and he took a deep breath to ground him again. By the Pale Tree's branches, he was _utterly_ ruined. Ruined for life, perhaps, but in all the _right_ ways that Tivon never wanted to go back the way it had been before.

Rox easily recovered from her initial shock after they met up with her, lapping up Tivon's excuse just as easily as Braham had and Tivon watched as his two friends bantered while his thoughts still churned and circled. He tried to keep his eyes from trailing over the far distance, but he glanced up, again and again and _again_ just to catch a glimpse – but he never saw a sign of the sylvari anywhere at all. “Wait...did you say, "Kuh-bam?" Ha! All this time, I thought you were saying, "Kuh-Braham.", Rox laughed and as her chest moved, Tivon heard the soft click of metal from underneath her leather tunic.

“No. Why would I say "Kuh-Braham?", Braham asked with a deep frown, holstering his mace as they made their way back up, whatever heartbreak Braham must have fought with smothered over by their visit in the arena.

“I figured it was a norn thing. You know, shouting your name as a battle cry? Kuh-Braham!”

“That's stupid. No norn shouts his own name like that. I mean, would you shout, "Kuh—Rox? Or, Tivon shouting “Kuh-Tivon”?”

“No, but I'm going to from now on. Look out world: Kuh-Rox! Kuh-Frostbite!”, she laughed and Tivon grinned at the ridiculousness of it all, heard Braham mutter under his breath,

“I should've stayed in Cragstead.”, but the smile on the red-haired norn's lips betrayed him.

Once they had reached the middle center they witnessed as Logan Thackery was moving toward the Queen, kneeling down toward here and bowing his head in submission and reverie. “Your Majesty. As a captain of the Seraph and your personal champion, I will stand for Kryta. If it pleases Your Majesty, let me test the watchknights alone. Let them prove their ability to protect your kingdom as well as I have.”

The Queen smiled down at him, pleased. “An excellent notion, Captain. Clear the arena of all other contestants and begin.”

A voice echoed over the whole arena, thrumming and buzzing from various speakers hidden throughout. “The queen has spoken! All other contestants please clear the arena. Captain Thackeray alone will prove the watchknights' mettle!”

“For this demonstration, we've added a special cosmetic change to the watchknights.”, the Queen smiled, but there was a hint of warning – or was it worry? - in her voice. ”Captain Thackeray has fought all manner of foes on our behalf. Now, Captain: are you ready to face them all?”

“I'm ready to do whatever Her Majesty commands.”, Logan said solemnly, readying his sword and shield, and Tivon found it easy to see how the rumors about the Captain and the Queen had begun, and began to wonder if they were true. Not that it mattered, not to him at least, but if he had to watch _the_ Logan Thackery beat down a helpless piece of metal he might as well entertain some food for thought.

“Then behold: with a touch of mesmer magic, the watchknight can represent the most dangerous and driven of our foes.”, the Queen announced, and with a sliver of purple that circled around the watchknight the metal twisted, turned and then, quite suddenly, there stood a charr.

“Okay...not what I was expecting, but it doesn't matter: the queen's enemies are my enemies, no matter what shape they take.”, Logan said. It was barely a murmur, meant for himself, but it was loud enough that Tivon could hear from the outside of the cage-like circle.

“Prepare to suffer!”, the charr cried and lunged forward, but Logan summoned his energy into his shield and it began to glow with a blue sheen and lashed out with it, sending the charr back with the force and the charr's body skittered over the floor a few meters away. Before the charr had even landed it switched its form with a burst of purple magic that broke free, taking the form of an ogre that loomed large and tall over Logan, lifting a heavy, brutish club over its head that came crashing down.

“You're kidding, right?”, Logan asked and just before the club impacted with his body he blinked behind the ogre in a flash of light, cutting into the ogres back with his sword an eliciting a painful growl from the creature. Tivon watched, entranced and captivated as Logan did the very same thing again, just before the club descended upon his head, suddenly appearing behind his opponent in a flash of light and sneaking an attack at the ogre's back.

The ogre cried out in frustration, turned and kicked at Logan's figure, the foot connected on his chest guard and sent Logan stumbling backwards with a huff, but as the guardian lifted his eyes the ogre had transformed once more into a human bandit wearing two pistols, both aimed straight at Thackery, and Tivon's chest lurched, he opened his mouth to protest, but he needn't have bothered.

As the bandit unloaded his guns, one gunshot after the other, Logan lifted his sword and slashed into the air in front of him, leaving cuts and trails of blue, shimmering light that hovered in the air, neutralizing the attacks effectively. Tivon had never seen a guardian before – and the sheer power combined with that strength made him suddenly aware of how much he lacked because whatever magic was, he had none of it. It was a bitter reminder that Tivon had only his bow, his sword, that he was just a _Ranger_ , no powerful spellcaster, no protector like Braham or Logan.

As if Derry had sensed his sudden melancholy the hound drew closer, brought his beautiful head to rest against Tivon's leg and he looked down at the hound, saw two dark, sparkling eyes staring back. _You are right,_ Tivon thought and caressed the hounds head with a smile, _I have beautiful, trustworthy companions and an unbreakable bond. That, in itself, is all the magic that I need._

When Tivon lifted his gaze the human bandit morphed into a small quaggan that toddled toward Logan with its small feet, and Logan laughed, “That's funny.”, before giving the quaggan a – considerably – soft kick that sent the creature stumbling back and forming back into its real form, that of the large, metallic puppet, or what they called them, watchknight. It lay on its back, sprawled out and looked defeated, and Logan bowed before the many people in the audience that watched before he turned his triumphant smile toward the queen.

“Ha! The watchknight is formidable, Your Majesty, but I'm not quite ready to declare it your new champion.”, Logan grinned in his rush, but behind him, approaching ever so slowly -

“Tribune?”, Rox breathed beside him, but Tivon knew this was just another illusion and a shudder went over his spine. Mesmers were a terrifying, _terrifying_ thing, distorting reality, time, space, and picking out someones' fears to the extent of using them against their opponents. A nightmare, to be sure, and Tivon gulped when he had to watch Logan fight with a former member, with a figure that he had held a burning hatred for, only to forgive him to fight a common enemy – to now be faced with that very same boiling frustration.

“I could say the same about YOU, human. Crawling back for forgiveness, Logan?”

“Dwayna's tears—is this some kind of joke? If it is, I'm not laughing.”, Logan growled and gripped his sword tighter, rolling in in his wrist with a grim expression, the two figures circling one another.

“Time's wasting. Let's finish this.”, the illusionary Rytlock growled and jumped forward, cat-like and quick, slashing Sohothin, a flaming, human blade with a richer history than one would assume at first glance, at Logan who blocked the blow just in time.

“This has gone on long enough.”, Tivon heard Queen Jennah protest, her voice forcefully level. “Countess Anise, shut down the watchknight.”, she ordered. There was a moment of silence and then Anise turned her head, her dark eyes squinting in the dim light.

“It's not responding, my queen. Something or someone's interfering with our control.”

Tivon frowned and elbowed Braham's side. The norn had his hands folded in front of his chest and gave Tivon a strange look. “Something's wrong.”, Tivon murmured, the leaves prickling on his skin and he felt the hum and the tang of electrostatic in the air, the ground began to tremble and quake and Tivon lifted his eyes, heard Rox beside him curse something under her breath.

The fence that kept them from entering the inner circle shuddered and slowly sunk into the ground, but stuttered to a halt before any of them could enter. Tivon felt the cool shadow fall over him and lifted his eyes, and all fibres in him grew tense and cold.

An Aetherblade ship hovered directly above their heads, unnoticed, quiet, almost _silent._ With a quick movement Tivon drew his sword and his eyes fell on the Queen – because all things considered, that had to be the Aetherblades' target.

“Looks like we've got work to do.”, Rox grumbled, and as if her words had conjured the sudden burst of electric static that discharged all around the arena, aetherblades appeared from thin air and began attacking all around them and Tivon was already running forward,

“Protect the queen!”, he yelled over the sudden screams and noises and _chaos_ that erupted all around them, threatening to tear the arena apart. The queen was covered in a small, round, purplish ball that protected her when an Aetherblade attempted to struck her, and Rox' arrow felled the pirate without a warning. The queen glanced up at them and gave them a grateful smile, Countess Anise rallying the Shining blade to her majesties side.

“What's the story here, Countess?”, Rox asked as she lifted another arrow from her quiver and pulled it into the string, ready to fire away. “If these things have an off-switch, now's the time to flip it.”

The Countess apparently did not like being addressed quite so informally. “You are the charr emissary, yes?”, she demanded, and Rox stiffened just the slightest, but that was all the answer the Countess required. “I'd love to, but someone has overridden our control over the entire pavilion.”

“How does that work?”, Rox asked with a frown. “Whoever that is would have to be close by. Very close.”

“I agree.”, Countess Anise said, and – was she smiling? - continued, “And if you'll cast your eyes on the top of that pillar, you'll see someone who shouldn't be here.”

Tivon's stomach lurched, twisted and _turned_ , hard, and for a second he thought that the sylvari had been seen, discovered, and he was about to protest when his eyes followed here Anise had gestured and all the protest died away. There, standing atop the pillar, was a sylvari, all right, but not _his_ (He would review that sudden possessiveness his thoughts took a turn to later). It was a female sylvari, green, pale skin shimmering from beneath a hooded robe.

“That gives us a target.” Anise continued. “Rather, it gives _you_ a target.”, she was looking sheepishly at Rox, and Tivon could feel the charr's anxiety permeating the air. “Are you proficient with that bow?”

“Proficient enough.”, Rox shrugged with a level expression. “Keep these goons away from my bow arm and stand back.” She sounded confident – more confident than Tivon would feel in her stead – and they followed her lead outside the outer ring, following a small, thin advance that was all that kept them from tumbling down into the arena. The noises around them were loud, deafening, and there was fighting _everywhere_ , blades flashing and clashing, steel meeting steel in high-pitched tones, and over all the chaos, even the screams and dying of men.

It crawled under Tivon's skin, how so very suddenly everything had changed, and his gaze wandered over the pavilion, through the arena, checked every crevice for a sign of the sylvari, but he could find none. _Please, be alright_ , Tivon thought, and was brought from his thoughts when Rox stood still, pulled the arrow taunt into the string and aimed, eyes carefully judging the distance.

The figure stood atop the pillar still, either wanting to be hot or oblivious, but Tivon was sure it wasn't the latter because the sylvari woman was _looking_ right at them, and perhaps he imagined it, but from here he could see a crooked, twisted smile playing on her lips. When Rox shot her arrow it swished, perfectly calculated, but just before the impact the figure disappeared in a discharge of lightning and appeared on a small cliff, barely a few meters away from them.

“Oh, be careful with that!”, she accused sheepishly, the smile betraying her completely. “You could put my eye out.”

As she disappeared Braham chuckled mirthfully, “You missed! Better get those eyes checked.”

“Shut up.”, Rox said, but there was no real heat in it. “I would have hit her but she blinked away. Now be quiet, you're jinxing me.”

Braham grinned broadly, lifted his eyes and his face fell. “She's back, over there!”, he called.

Rox charged ahead, more determined than before, and Tivon still looked out for the sylvari, _his_ sylvari, anywhere at all and found the worry nearly tearing him apart, eyes glazing over everything and when he turned his head, noticed that Anise was giving him a calculating, scrutinizing stare. Her eyes were squinted, dark, and Tivon suppressed a shiver and tore his eyes away, making a mental note not to cross her on any occasion. Ever.

When Rox took her position and aimed once again, her arrow flew in a perfectly calculated arch and the sylvari woman crooned, “What, don't you like me? Give me a chance!” and disappeared once more into a sizzling cloud of static.

“Burn this!”, Rox cursed with a growl. “Missed again. I knew Braham was jinxing me.”

“I thought you said you could handle that weapon.”, Anise said with a tone that was a dagger coated with poison, only ever so polite on the surface, yet cutting deep within.

“I can!”, Rox shot back. “Just give me one more shot.” Without waiting for anyone to protest – or agree – she was already moving, and Tivon trailed after her with a bitter taste in his mouth. He doubted any one of them could have done better, not even himself. An opponent that blinked away before a strike? That was a powerful opponent that had _calculated_ that eventuality, just as Logan had when he had fought that Ogre, blinking behind his enemy just before the impact of the blunt weapon.

If Rox had been focussed before, now she was entirely _trained_ on the target before her and when she released her arrow this time, it hit – something, at least – because the sylvari woman stood her ground and _laughed_ , crackling, gasping, before disappearing once more.

“Bullseye.”, Rox smirked triumphantly, revealing her sharp talons and her soft green eyes challenged Braham. “Who needs their eyes checked now?”

“You do.”, Braham grinned. “Remind me, how many shots did it take you to hit the mark?”

“That's it.”, Rox snapped. “Frostbite, if Braham says one more nasty thing about my aim, sting him to death.” Frostbite chirped, an answer that the little devourer always made – but Braham was either content with his teasing or respecting the devourer enough to stop.

“We are making progress your Majesty.”, Anise said and sounded pleased for once. “The arena gates should lower momentarily.”

“I am glad to hear it.”, the Queen said. “But we need to deactivate the watchknight attacking Captain Thackery.”

“Still working on it my Queen. Our technicians can't break through the interference.”

“Unacceptable!”, the queen protested, her voice pitching higher and she glared Anise down. “We have no more time. Destroy it.”

Upon command, all of them swarmed down toward the middle where Logan was still fighting the Watchknight, and it was hard to say whose strike was the last and most effective, but in the end the watchknight fell under their combined force, and all of them stumbled back in surprise when there, just atop the fallen Watchknight, an electrostatic appeared and the female sylvari suddenly stood before them, her eyes glaring at them dangerously.

“Aw, you spoiled my fun!”, she accused. “Now I am going to have to make a special project out of you.” The way she spoke, it left a cold shiver over Tivon's back and Logan jumped forward, sword thrusting at the figure, but she disappeared into thin air with a loud sizzle that left the tang of burned cloth.

Logan made a frustrated noise and then turned accusingly toward Anise. “What happened here?”, he demanded. “This was supposed to be an exhibition. How did that thing know about Rytlock?”

“Don't be so sensitive, Captain.”, Anise said with a narrow of her eyes, her voice cool and collected. “When you stepped in as the sole combatant, I decided to add a slightly more..personal touch.” Oh, did the cruelty and cool of mesmer illusions never cease? Why would Anise torment Logan, when he was so clearly still fighting with a past that he could never fully redeem? It was simply twisted, cruel, and the lack of any empathy in Anise's features made it all so much worse.

“We'll discuss your 'personal touch' later, Countess.”, Logan growled and glared, but Anise made no sign that she was intimidated even the slightest. “Right now I insist we shut down his pavilion for a full investigation.”

“I respectfully disagree.”, Countess Anise said nonchalantly. “Whoever did this clearly intended to disrupt our celebration. We can not let them succeed.”

What kind of argument was this? Fight simply for the sake of fighting? Had they not lost precious lives in this sudden assault? Was it not worth investigating?

“Anise is correct.”, the Queen said and shifted closer. “This even isn't just a festival. It's a statement to the world. I will not let that statement be undermined.” Countess Anise's lips quirked, just the hint at the edges of her mouth.

“As you command.”, Logan obliged reluctantly, lowering his gaze. “But I am beginning an investigation and I am doubling the number of Seraph patrolling the city.” His tone was set, final, and the Queen nodded thoughtfully.

“Of course. I want to know why the Aetherblades attacked, and what they had to do with the disruption of our watchknights.”

“Good luck, Captain, let me know if I can help.”, a noble suddenly spoke up, and this was the first time Tivon even noticed the human male standing there in glamorous, fashionable clothing – or so a human would call it – and with an undeterred, cheery tone in his voice. “In the meantime the least I can do is to enjoy the festivities on your behalf.” The last was said with a smile and a chuckle, and the nobleman wandered off, humming a cheerful tune, not even bothering to see if anyone deigned to answer.

“Please excuse us.”, the Queen said toward Rox and bowed her head. “I am grateful for your services, representative. It will not be forgotten.”

“At your service, your majesty.”, Rox saluted and bowed her head until the Queen, Anise and Logan had moved from sight, but Logan halted to speak with a Seraph guard, just a few paces away.

“Who was that human noble?”, Tivon asked and Braham shrugged.

“No idea. But that was a lot more fun that I expected. You think the metal things going crazy was part of the exhibition?”

“Hard to say.”, Rox murmured thoughtfully. “And as the Black Citadel's official envoy I should probably keep my opinions to myself.”

“Booring!”, Braham called out loudly, lifting his hand to form a cylinder around his mouth to sound even louder. “I smell trouble. And a chance for glory. Why don't you use that VIP status to get us in on some action?”

“I knew bringing you along was a good idea.”, Rox smirked. “Come on, let's get involved in stuff that's none of our business.” The last she said with a sheepish grin that Tivon and Braham mimicked. As they made their way past Logan the guardian actually lifted his eyes and gave them a weary smile.

“Thanks for jumping in back there.”, he said when he turned toward them and he sounded sincere and grateful. His brown hair was curling around his face slightly longer than Tivon was used from human males and the eyes were dark and determined.

“Happy to help.”, Rox chirped. “Consider it part of the Black Citadel's ongoing partnership with Divinity's Reach.”

“Yup.”, Braham cut it and smacked his gloved hands together, making a hefty smacking noise. “Nothing like a little mayham to to spice up a party. Kuh-Bam!”

Logan did not seem impressed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, mustering their strange array of companions. “I still got a job to do. I can't leave Kryta or its Queen in the hands of protectors I don't trust.” Was that a backhand slap at _them_ , or perhaps even Anise? Despite the fact that Countess Anise was inflicting fear with just her glare, there was no doubt to be had that her entire heart was set out to serve and protect the queen, even Logan must be aware of that.

“Things seem alright now.”, Rox said. “There are sham bouts and practise fights happening all over the arena and the watchknights are all behaving.” Her voice was level, soothing even, but Logan almost snarled back,

“But for how long?”, he asked, and then took a deep breath that brought his voice back to a more level note. He looked almost weary, then. “We need to take a closer look at these things, find out what went wrong and keep it from happening again.“

“Count us in.“, Rox grinnned. “I want another shot at that pillar person. We are at your disposal Captain. And if you don't mind me saying, the real Tribune Brimstone would never talk to a comrade like that. I know it.”

“Except he did.”, Logan replied darkly, eyes set into a far-away, distant memory that was bitter and painful. “Once upon a time, he said those very words to me.”

Rox scrambled for words. “Oh, well...er..he wouldn't say them again. I just know it.”

Logan did not look like he believed her, a pain etched on his face that was just so _real_ Tivon knew that mistakes had been made – and could never be redeemed. “Thank you for your help.”, Logan said stiffly. “I've got work to do.” With that he marched off, leaving a cool air behind that Tivon wasn't sure how to break, until...

“Is anyone else hungry?”, he asked and grinned up at Braham, and the norn beamed down at him, revealing sparkling white teeth.

“Starving.”

 


	9. Clockwork Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I am really sorry for updating so late. This chapter kept me busy a while, because it was both very long and I was sick. But I am better now, so hopefully that means progress. We finally get to meet the villain of the whole thing...exciting, isn't it? I also apologize because this chapter turned out to be so long. SHeesh. xD But I am sure you will enjoy it nonetheless :3 Have fun my friends! <3

The Seraph guards patrolled the city diligently, but as the festivities continued there was little that actually justified them being there. After the opening ceremony Tivon, Braham and Rox had sought a small place in the city commons, settled down there and rented rooms. It was small, cosy and -

who was he kidding?

It was constricting, confining, like a prison made from four, steady, cold walls, a ceiling over his head that took the sky and stars from him, and as soon as he had caught a glimpse of the room everything inside him had bristled like the fur of a cat rising when meeting danger.

“Ah.”, he made and gulped as his eyes trailed over the interior of the room. Austere. Bare. Stark. “Well. I think I'll – take a walk.”

Braham frowned down at him over his broad shoulder, having already made his way inside. “I know these accommodations leave something to be desired, but they're not that bad. And breakfast's included. It's a good deal.”

“You'll need two bed's anyhow.”, Tivon chuckled and let his eyes wander once more over Brahams broad form, the wide shoulders and chest, the long legs... By the Pale Tree, norns were _huge_. Braham easily towered two heads over him, and was two times his size. Heck, his arms were the size of his legs pressed together.

“Let him go, Braham.”, Rox grumbled as she set down her pack. “Or he'll just sneak out during the night.” Tivon blushed at that, flustered that Rox knew him well enough to know - because the thought had occurred to him.

Braham laughed it off easily though. “Alright. See you for breakfast, Tiv.”

Tivon beamed at them gratefully and waved, and as he made his way from the building and breathed the – relatively – fresh night air he felt more invigorated than he would have sitting in front of a cosy fire. He enjoyed the company of his friends, but after everything that had happened today they were both tired – not that Tivon was any less so. But he had seen the weary look in their eyes and knew they would fall asleep easily – whereas he would struggle to fall asleep on a human bed that was too soft under his back – nothing like a hammock or even the hard ground.

But among all of that, there was also another reason for leaving his friends to rest for the night – whereas he stalked through the night and through the alleys.

Ever since the ending of the opening ceremony he had neither seen a sign nor heard a peep from the sylvari, and that very fact made him feel uneasy, anxious, _worried_ . There had been so many things going on, fighting, protecting the Queen, and even among it all his head had circled around the sylvari and Anise had seen it in his expression that he was _looking out_ for someone.

He was sure she would ask him about it, at some point in time. Her dark, squinted eyes had shown the curiosity beneath – even if it all was fuelled by her duty to protect the queen. He cared little for that right now and he tried to ignore the tightening of his chest as he moved through the streets, the paved stone cold beneath his feet, every step a soft slap when his soles met the even surface.

Tivon's eyes trailed over the darkened city, faint lights from street lamps and torches cast over main streets, but they did little to lighten the dark passageways and alleys that criss-crossed the whole area like dark veins. He could see movement in the shadows and had his hand ready, hovering over the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it from its sheath should the occasion arise. Derry trailed after him, his paws making soft tapping noises, and Vail rested on his shoulder, claws digging in tightly.

Surely nobody would dare attack him, right? A large, fully grown hound and a pale, white raven at his side, it surely made for a strange picture, but also it looked like little of a willing target. Still, that thought was barely a comfort to him, and he was glad to move under the cone of a street light, felt that the light somehow eased the eyes in the distance, and he told himself he only imagined the sliver of steel blades in the darkness.

A ramp lead upwards into the darkness and to the left was a soft spot of green with grass and greens, hugging the walls of a white marble building tightly. Humans loved spots of nature in their city, as if to erase the fact that they had plastered and built upon it to create their large, constricting walls.

“Where are you?”, Tivon murmured, more to himself, his eyes trailing over the distant spots that he could see, over the many rooftops that loomed like dark, sharp teeth into the air, the only warmth coming from lit windows in the walls.

Slowly he moved upward, the steep rise of the ramp bringing a welcome strain into his calves in comparison to the constant, even paved passageways of the streets, even though Tivon knew it would not last – and that it was built just like everything else. Stone slab atop stone slab. Marble. Steel. He shivered and tried very hard not to feel caged, but even when he craned his neck to gaze upon the stars it did little to alleviate the feeling.

When he was atop he was higher than the buildings below, the main district however reached even higher in the distance, the very center of the city rising higher and higher, a statement to its status and standing. In that, at least, the human and sylvari constructions were the same. The Grove was built in a similar way, the Pale Tree in its very center, the core, the middle around which everything spun. It lifted high into the air, so high that Tivon could not see its top when he craned his neck, beautiful woven bark and birch-white leafs that lifted so high into the air they looked like clouds.

He closed his eyes an imagined it in his minds eye: The scent of the grove, grass beneath his feet, flowers blooming on the side of travel-worn passages, woven fences that kept one from falling toward the lower levels that were connected by spirals, and that round, soft seed that lead upward toward the Omphalo's Chamber, toward the Avatar of the Pale Mother Tree, her chambers... a place Tivon never had dared to visit.

His reverie and awe had kept him away, but he knew what the Avatar of their mother looked like, how beautiful her pale bark was, how the pollen floated from her skin around her in a sheen and glitter of gold. Her eyes, large, round and kind mustered her children with love and tender care, how her voice vibrated and soothed even the deepest cuts.

A rustle made Tivon grip his bow, pull it from his shoulders in a smooth, trained motion and an arrow knocked into the string, he lifted the arrowhead to point at a figure in the darkness, hooded, a garment covering any sight whether the person was armed or not.

The person froze mid-step, had clearly not anticipated for Tivon to react quite so quickly, and Tivon's pattern glowed fiercely and his squinted his eyes, body tense and fingers curling tighter around the string. They stared at one another for what felt like an eternity and Tivon felt a nervous thrum in his body, the anxiety rising like the level of the sea, rushing and gushing higher and higher, until he forced himself to focus and ignore the trepidation. His eyes registered movement that came from the corner of his eyes and he took a step back, felt the smooth stone press against his legs.

It was too dark. A stone arch was over the heads of the figures casting a great, looming shadow over them, only adding to the darkness of the night. It would certainly prove difficult to win a battle of which Tivon could not calculate the odds because he could not tell just how many of them he was facing, not that he truly wanted to.

“We have you outnumbered.”, the figure murmured in a low, dark voice and then stepped closer, “Give us-”

Tivon's arrow shot just an inch short of the person's foot and he pulled another arrow from his quiver, his eyes dark with intent, and pulled in the arrow in the blink of an eye. “Last warning.”, Tivon growled and he barely recognized his voice, but he was entirely calm. He had options - _many_ of them. He could probably shoot them before they got too close, and even if they did his skills with the sword were to be reckoned with, and even if he did not have a weapon, his hand-to-hand combat was just as superb. Should that be for naught, they would never have a chance to catch up with him. Perhaps he should consider running – simply for the sake of avoiding any bloodshed.

The figure stuttered, coming to a halt, and very clearly considered the options, eyes sparkling beneath the hood and flickering from the arrow to Tivon's face. Tivon's arrow was pointed at the person's chest, ready to fire, even though he would never aim for their heart – he did not mean to kill them, only defend himself.

It was quite unfortunate that the Seraph, for some strange reason, did not patrol these areas. Was that not negligent of them? That areas such as this filled with thieves and smugglers were left for longer periods of time? But then again, Tivon had _known_ this area was not safe, and many others did too. Perhaps, he wondered idly, bowstring drawn, the Seraph did not want to take the risk of patrolling an area that was clearly heavy with criminal activity.

The tension rose, seconds dripping by agonizingly slow like sap flowing from the bark of a tree, time slowly bleeding away. Another moments hesitation, then the man growled and moved, having made his choice. The sound was like that of a strangled animal and he pulled something from beneath his robe, the sliver of steel barely visible in the dim light and Tivon watched the person side-step, but in vain. When he let his arrow fly it hit the man's shoulder, pierced into the soft flesh right beneath his clavicle.

The man cried out in pain, stumbled and fell to his knees, hand clutching at the wound and the arrow and Tivon pirouetted to the side, a dagger flying past his face barely a hairs breath away. He heard Derry growl and jump onto one of the attackers and Vail was already in the air, crowing accusingly and claws digging down into flesh.

A man came from the shadow of the arc, jumped toward Tivon with what looked like a club and Tivon did not have enough time to draw in another arrow. Instead he stepped to the side and flung the wood of the bow over the figures' head as the man fought to recover from his momentum, eliciting a cry of pain and the oddly satisfying sound of wood meeting bone with a _thwak_.

The man fell unconscious with no other sounds coming from his throat, body meeting the cold, hard stone with a thud. _One, two_... Tivon counted as he turned, pulled two arrows from his quiver and pulled them into the string and shot into the dark even before his body had completely stilled. The motion was fluid and graceful and the first arrows swished and disappeared into the darkness where Tivon had only ever seen the sliver of dagger beneath a mantle and he now heard a cry of pain and the inhale of a shocked breath.

The second arrow aimed up higher toward an advance where a figure stood with a crossbow and Tivon lifted his arms, aimed – and held his breath when he noticed that the man was staring at him as well, the both of them calculating who would be the winner of this duel – when suddenly the man, barely a dark silhouette in the shadows – dropped his crossbow and lifted his hands in a surrendering gesture, the wooden crossbow clattering onto the stone floor.

Tivon lowered his bow and did not deign to nod that he understood or that he was accepting the surrender. The four men – the front one with an arrow embedded in his shoulder, the one Derry had felled and was growling at, the one Vail was pestering with claws and beak from above, and the one Tivon had shot in the darkness – they groaned and struggled and cursed, and Tivon walked over to the front bandit, thief – _whatever_ he was, and crouched in front of him.

The man cursed under his breath again and looked up, strikingly blue eyes glittering with fury and pain. “Fucking plant.”, he said and spat on the ground, hand clutching the arrow tighter, knuckles protruding white beneath the skin.

Tivon should have felt angry at such a comment, but he was no stranger to emotions, especially anger and fury. They sometimes made people say hurtful things, and it was this that had Tivon feeling nothing at all. “You have something of mine.”, he murmured and the man glared up at him, not comprehending, when Tivon lifted his hand, curled it around the shaft of his arrow and _pulled_.

The cry tore through the air sharply, carried through the stone arch and over the paved passage, and the man curled on the ground in pain, blood oozing from the wound in red, but in the darkness of the night it was all pitch black.

Tivon felt no satisfaction at this. It was rather a necessity – making arrows was no easy work and he could not afford to simply leave them with bandits such as this. They were of his own design. He had burnished the wood, had sharpened the arrow heads, and it was he, too, who had put barbed ends on them so that his unfortunate victims did not even attempt to pull them out themselves.

“Shit!”, the man cried. “Fucking hell!”, but it all fell on deaf ears when Tivon erected himself and put the arrow back in his quiver, making a mental note to clean it later. The arrow he had shot at the ground was easier collected.

When he stalked up toward the man lying in the shadow of the arc the man was sitting on the ground, clutching an arrow that was embedded deep in his thigh, his eyes looking up fearfully at Tivon. He had seen what Tivon had done, knew what was to come and he began to stutter, inching back as if he could run.

“Sorry.”, he fumbled for words. “I am sorry, please -”

Tivon crouched lower and lifted a finger into the air, gesturing the man to be silent. He heard Derry growling still, and Vail was crowing defiantly after the man the raven had attacked – who was running away at a fast pace, soles of his boots slapping against the ground, the sound fading distantly into the night.

The man before Tivon looked _horrified_ and he felt a pang of sympathy. He was not unkind when he said, “The pain will cease. The lesson, I hope, remains.”

And when he tore the arrow free and another pained cry rang over the district, it was little that its inhabitants could do but not to shudder.

  


  


“Good morning.”, Tivon greeted Braham, whose bed-hair was an untamed beast all by itself. Red hair curled and dishevelled, strands hanging free around his face, and Tivon had to hold back his chuckle at the sight. Braham grunted something in return and slumped down into the chair next to Tivon, his massive body making the wooden chair creek in protest.

There was an aura around Braham that clearly stated _“Don't talk to me yet.”_ and Tivon was content to sip on the cup of water instead, his eyes wandering over the small room that was filled with chairs and tables, but other than them and a few other human occupants there was nobody here.

Tivon wanted to ask where Rox was, but when he saw the heavy, tired eyes and Braham's scowl as he mustered his breakfast he thought better of it. She would come, eventually. There was no need to invite Braham's bad temper just yet.

It took about half an hour before Rox too showed, and she looked more of a morning person than Braham. She greeted him with a smile, her green eyes sparkling eagerly, and the necklaces she wore sounded like chimes and metal clacking ever so softly as she moved. “Morning Tiv.”, she said and sat down as well, a human waitress placing down a plate hastily before making her exit, and began munching on what Tivon recognized as bacon and eggs.

“Sleep well?”, he asked and heard Braham grunt in response and Rox chuckled.

“Yeah. Until Frostbite woke up.”

Oh. That certainly explained a lot.

“I'll strangle that devourer. Do it now before it grows too large to fit by hands around its throat.”, Braham grumbled and Tivon and Rox exchanged a mirthful glance. Better to change the topic.

“So, where did you find a place to nest?”, Rox asked and Tivon sighed. Should he lie? Better not. He was such a terrible liar, after all.

“I didn't.”, he answered truthfully and could not look at Rox, but he saw her frown from the corner of his eyes.

“Wait. You have been up all night?”

Tivon had searched all night for a sign of the sylvari – and had found none. None at all. It gnawed at him, worry making him sick, an ache in his chest that constricted his ability to breathe. The flurry of emotions he felt at his failure to find the sylvari – frustration, trepidation, worry, anxiety, _fear –_ it was hard not to let it get to his head and imagine the worst of the worst.

That something had happened to him. And Tivon wasn't _there_ to protect him.

Even Braham looked up now, eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowing with worry and question. Tivon had been silently staring at his cup, lost in thought, a swarm of emotions displaying on his face, too fast and too many to decipher.

“What's wrong?”, Braham asked after he gulped down his bite.

Tivon looked up again and cleared his throat, cursing himself inwardly to get quite so lost. “I...well, I was mugged last night.”

“Mugged?”, Braham repeated, face turning into an angry scowl. “Oh, let me at them. I am itching to swing my mace against something that doesn't _shatter_.”

Tivon chuckled at that. “I took care of them myself. It's just not very safe to wander the city at night, it seems.”

“Did you beat some sense into them?”, Rox asked. “If you got in trouble with the authorities that would complicate things.”

Tivon waved it away with a gesture of his hand. “No, no. Your status as a representative is unblemished. It just had me wondering, with all the Seraph activity all throughout the city, why thieves still roam freely. And yes, I 'beat' some sense into them. In a way.”

Rox nodded thoughtfully. “Might be that they are letting them roam. No matter how hard the authorities try, you can never be without any crime. Unlucky timing for you though. Or them. Heh.”

“We can't all have luck charms.”, Tivon shrugged with a hint of a smile and Rox rolled her eyes.

“Make fun of me all you want, but I haven't been mugged _once_.”

“At least I didn't have to deal with Frostbite.”, Tivon teased and Braham made a low noise at that that rumbled from his chest.

“I won't again. He sleeps outside.”, Braham ordered gruffly and Frostbite made an affronted chirp, and they all laughed, loud enough that heads from other tables turned toward them with questioning glances, but their laughter was not interrupted by that at all. If anything, it made them burst into a new wave, until Tivon had to hold his abdomen because he was shaking from laughter.

And everything – absolutely everything – the room, the sunlight filtering through the glass window, the motion of Braham lifting a hand to flick away a tear shed during their laughter, the various mirthful glances the strangers gave them – it all slowed down when Tivon heard it.

A chuckle. _The chuckle._ It was faint, like an echo, a memory, and he was thrown back to his time in Southsun Cove, where he had neither known nor anticipated, where all he had wanted was to explore -

But he heard it. _His_ chuckle.

He whirled around in his chair, startled, but behind them was nobody – only empty chairs and tables. Everything inside Tivon stilled as the chuckle faded and he _yearned_ to hear it again, the moment of peace and quiet forgotten, all the worries and all the anxiety returning full force like a club to the head, making him dizzy and almost _sick_.

“Tiv?”, Rox asked through her chuckle, concern weaving into her voice as she leaned forward slightly. “You alright?”

He had abruptly stopped laughing, was staring at the empty room behind them, the strangers that had given them glances all sat _in front of them._

He turned back around and rose to his feet, the screech of the chair impossibly loud on the wooden floor, so much so that it almost made him flinch and he gulped. “I...need to go.”, he murmured and quickly, before he gave his companions a chance to stop him, he brushed past Braham and toward the door, slid through the tables and chairs with a cat-like grace, a pulse rising nervously up in his throat.

“Let him.”, he heard Rox soothe Braham. “You know how jumpy he is.” He owed Rox, he decided.

The words faded away when the door closed behind him and he blinked in the morning light, head whirling left and then right for a _sign_ , for _anything_ at all – when he saw the glimpse of a purple weave, a wisp, floating through the air just around the corner out of sight.

He was suddenly running, dashing after the wisp, could only ever see it oh so faintly flickering and he knew he was being lead, that he should not be so trustworthy, that he should be _careful,_ but all of that – his own safety be damned – didn't matter.

With a sharp turn he was looking into a dark alley, the sides made up by houses that looked old and worn, so much older than himself, and the whole passage was covered in darkness. But there, leaning against a pair of stacked boxes, arms folded in front of his chest, head tilted slightly to the side, a smile playing at his lips was the sylvari, and Tivon could not remember why he was out of breath, why he suddenly struggled to catch it and he surged forward, barely registering the look of surprise on the sylvari's features when he lifted his hands to place them upon his upper arms and his motion slowed, almost stilled, and he carefully planted his palms against the sylvari's skin almost fearfully, gently, _trembling_ , and when he felt the bark beneath his fingers, warm and yielding and yet, somehow, sturdy, he made a noise between a sigh and a choke.

The sylvaris hands rose to grasp his arms instantly, easing his weight from his trembling legs and Tivon took a deep breath when he felt those warm fingers curl against his bark, against his _skin_ , and by the Pale Tree, this feeling...

it was utter elevation.

The uncertainty had been an acid upon his bark, sinking, down down down, until it had milled and cauterized its way beneath, spreading like a vile poison that grasped him from within.

“Tivon.”, the sylvari spoke, surprise and concern so very clear in his voice, a coaxing, eliciting edge to it. The fingers curled around his forearm, warm and _wonderful_ , and Tivon let out a long, weary sigh and could not stop himself from trembling when he took another serrated breath.

“After the opening ceremony...”, he began and he did not recognize his own voice. Had he always sounded quite so broken? His eyes were downcast, staring at the sylvaris chest, still fighting to take it in. “I couldn't find you.”

“I was there.”, the sylvari said calmly, _soothingly_ , and Tivon's body responded immediately. He relaxed, just slightly – his shoulders, his grip – but he refused to let go and lifted his gaze. “The seraph are looking for a stray sylvari. I did not mean to give them a target.”

Tivon nodded. He understood. He had feared that, feared that the sylvari would be mistaken for an enemy, in all the chaos that this was. Mistaken for an enemy and...and...”I can't.”, Tivon said, and once again his voice cracked, right in the middle. “I was _afraid_.”

The hands ever so gently tightened their grip, pulled him in until Tivon's body slumped forward languidly into the embrace and he rested his head against the sylvari's chest, breathed in the scent, marked the sensations of the leaves underneath his cheek, burned them into his memory. “I am _fine_.”, the sylvari crooned gently. “I am sorry for worrying you so.”

“It's not your fault.”, Tivon murmured, feeling suddenly weak, tired, _fatigued_. All this time his body had gone on and on and on, he had not even dared to think that he should sleep, but now...now the sylvari was alright, and he allowed the voice of his body to finally demand what he had pushed away. It washed over him, feathery and light and he sighed, his eyes since long drifted shut. He barely noticed his body almost falling into the embrace, against the sylvari, and the male made a surprised noise, caught Tivon easily against his chest and held him there, tight and steady.

“Tivon?”, the sylvari asked alarmed, but it was faded, distant.

“Tired.”, he murmured drowsy and he felt the sylvari relax at the words, a soft chuckle escaping the male's lips, a breath of air ghosting over Tivon's head, making him shiver, and the rumble and vibration in the sylvari's chest made Tivon smile lazily.

There was the hum of magic, vibrating and sizzling in the air delicately, but Tivon didn't bother to open his eyes. He smelled grass, felt warmth spread over his back from sunlight, and he leaned further into the embrace, found the sylvari's arms taking him in tenderly, _lovingly_ , and it all just faded into blurs and streaks, until, finally, he drifted into slumber – not worrying about a thing.

  


Tivon awoke to the sound of chirping birds and a breeze of wind caressing his cheek. Even though he felt more refreshed, there was a part of him that was still drowsy, and he wondered why until he heard the soft humming of a voice, close and warm and vibrating, so very soothing that he could have easily drifted off to sleep once again.

It would be so easy to forget everything else. To just keep his eyes closed and remain in this bliss, the bliss of oblivion and happiness, but even as he lay, his body slowly stirring awake he knew he could not remain forever, that the world would not wait – and that he was not the kind to simply stop. Relish, yes. Cherish? Most certainly.

And he did both at this moment, a smile spreading over his lips before he could help himself and hoped that it did not interrupt the moment, that he would wake into reality when everything felt so ethereal, so heavenly, like a dream.

But instead his curiosity got the better of him eventually and he opened his eyes, blinked them open ever so slowly, long lashes over ever-green, bright eyes, and noticed the sylvari's upper body above him, his dark eyes staring somewhere in the distance, a hand idly stroking through Tivon's foliage over his head, continuously humming that _sweet_ tune and Tivon stared, _entranced_ , and he fell, fell down down down, all over again.

The sylvari's pattern was dormant in the brightness of day, the sun filtering through the leafs and branches of a tree that cast a protective, dancing, cool shadow over them, but even then, with no luminescent glow to accentuate his features the sylvari was marvellous, comely. Beautiful. Suddenly the sylvari looked down at him and Tivon realized with a nervous thrum that he had spoken, that he had -

“ _Beautiful.”_

Embarrassment made him feel hot and he felt the sylvari shift, and he suddenly realized that his head was resting in the sylvaris lap, that he had slept there for... He had kept the sylvari like this, for _hours_. With a flush that pulsed through all of his body Tivon gulped and the sylvari followed the motion with his eyes, a tender smile on his lips before slowly lifting his eyes to meet his own.

“Sleep well?”, the sylvari asked softly and that voice... Tivon wanted to wake up to it every day. For the rest of his days. For the rest of his life.

“Mhm.”, he made, not trusting his voice to bring out a simple _Yes_ , not when his throat felt so tight, when he could not bring his lips to part. The hand in his foliage moved, caressing over the leafs, brushing them back and he leaned into the touch, inched closer into the warmth of the sylvaris body and sighed contently.

It was hard to imagine that mere hours ago he had been almost sick with worry – and now... Now.

Now he was content.

The sylvari stared down at him, a thoughtful and supple expression on his face, his eyes dark orbs without the pattern glowing within. “Tivon.”, he spoke, softly, and Tivon made a soft noise that he had heard, that he was listening. “You will have to get up soon.”

That made Tivon open his eyes and he looked up at him. “Why?”, he asked. He didn't want to leave. This...this was bliss. He wanted to stay here forever.

The sylvari chuckled. “Your friends must be worried sick.”

A pang of shame filled him that he had all but forgotten the rest of the world, the troubles, the worries, his _friends_ and he gulped, tried to ignore the guilt that weighed him down. As he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, the Karka on his shoulder seemed to rise from its very own slumber, pinching his shoulder almost painfully (How _dare_ he move) and Tivon patted it beneath the shawl with a smile, calming it down. When he let his eyes finally drift he noticed that they were not inside the city at all. This place looked unfamiliar, grass green planes, trees offering shelter from the sun that was already high in the air, and the soft scent of nature in his nose. Of earth, of dirt, of grass. And above, through the thick, green leafs and the curling and forking branches he could make out a clear, blue sky.

“Where are we?”, he mumbled, the warmth from where their bodies had been connected still imprinted on his bark. Truth was he wanted nothing more than to lie back down again, to close his eyes and watch the sylvari. That alone would be enough.

“Queensdale.”, the sylvari answered and Tivon felt those dark eyes watching him intently and warily as he slowly tried to stand, his body still slightly drowsy from his recent slumber, and only then did the sylvari rise to his feet at well and – oh, even though Tivon only saw it from the corner of his eyes the shift of the leafs over the sylvari's skin was graceful, the movement fluid and controlled and Tivon's mouth felt dry. Quickly he tore his eye away, tried to focus on the area around them, on anything else at all and in the far distance he could see Divinity's Reach, looming high into the sky like a massive, jagged rock with towers and high walls and banners fluttering in the soft breeze.

“I didn't know humans could leave a land untouched.”, Tivon murmured, more to himself as his gaze dropped toward the small stream below where nature looked untainted, not plastered with any human construction, left without human influence.

“There are places left untouched, if you know where to look.”, the sylvari answered and stood beside him, casting him a glance with that ever-present small smile that looked _stunning_ , those dark eyes filled with an even darker iris, and even now, in broad daylight, Tivon could imagine the luminescent glow and bringing forth the pattern of two eclipses, that very pattern that had been what had caught his gaze, his _attention._ The face, even though it was made from bark just like Tivon's, it was perfect, smooth, unblemished and Tivon could get lost in the grace of the sylvaris movements, so _easy_ and _light_ like a dancer.

The chuckle that came from the sylvaris mouth startled him, brought him back from his reverie and he felt a blush creep into his cheeks, body feeling warm and giddy. “Sorry.”, Tivon murmured and tore his eyes away, gulping down the embarrassment. They way he stared...surely the sylvari was uncomfortable with how Tivon _stared._ Who would be comfortable being stared at, for so often, for so long? _Idiot, idiot,_ Tivon cursed himself inwardly.

“It's alright.”, the sylvari murmured, brushed past him and where their arms touched Tivon felt warmth spread into his fingertips and he curled them, gently, relishing the feeling. He wanted to reach out, to hold his hand, his arm, his shoulder, _anything_ that was allowed, but he held the urge back. He had been selfish enough for a day, he decided, and looked up with questioning, green eyes when the sylvari stood in front of him, hands lifted and palms curled around something that lay hidden within. “I have something for you.”

Tivon opened his mouth, closed it. Gulped. Opened it again, eyes wandering to the hands and his breath hitched. “Me?”, he croaked out, and thorns, his voice cracked _again_.

What had he done to deserve a present? And he had nothing to give in return, nothing at all. All he had was himself, his bow, his arrows and his sword – and even if he gave all those to the sylvari (and he would if only he asked) – he was not sure that was an appropriate gift at all. He was still trying to decide what to do with the situation when the sylvari opened his hands and revealed a small, woven vine that looked like part of their cultural armor, and at its tip rested a small bud with beautiful pale, rosy petals that remained closed in a soft curl.

Tivon's breath hitched when he realized what it was and his mouth opened to protest, but the sylvari shook his head with a smile. “If you are uncomfortable wearing it, I understand. But...with this, you may call upon me.”

Oh. _Oh._ Warmth and affection bloomed in Tivon's chest at the realization, the fact that the sylvari had thought of a solution that Tivon had searched and searched and searched and not _found._ Like this he could...he could...

By the Pale Tree, he felt faint. His breath stuttered and he looked up at the sylvari and barely managed to breathe out, “Thank you. This is...wonderful.”

The sylvari's smile broadened and he held open the woven vine. “May I?”, he asked and Tivon turned around, back turned toward the sylvari, and then, ever so slowly, the sylvari pulled the shawl from his shoulders, one round after another and then stilled when he saw the small creature clinging to Tivon's shoulder like a pauldron. “You really kept it.”, the sylvari murmured and Tivon blushed a little.

“I couldn't...couldn't abandon it. Or doom it to such a finite end.”

“I was there. I saw you take the egg.”

Tivon blinked over his shoulder with a surprised expression and when he did he met two pairs of eyes that looked at him as though he was a clump of gold in the desert, a rare pearl inside the many, many clams of the sea. Their eyes locked, the atmosphere turning heavy and laden and Tivon gulped, the heat circling and washing through him, gushing and hissing.

“You have a good heart, Tivon.”, the sylvari murmured and then, ever so slowly, he raised his hands with the ends of the necklace in his hands and raised it over Tivon's head, lowering it until it rested feathery on his clavicle and the hands brushed against his neck, fastening the strings together and he felt it rest there, light and _soft._ With a tenderness that was out of this world the sylvari placed the shawl over Tivon's shoulders again, gently over the Karka to hide it from view, and when the cloth finally rested Tivon turned and _beamed_ up at the sylvari. “Pull a petal from the bud, and I'll be there.”, the sylvari said and lifted his hand, finger brushing below the shawl and over the skin just beneath the bud and Tivon shivered at the touch, his eyes turning glazed with _want_ and when their eyes met the connection, their _bond_ unfolded between them, pulling them together, and with more courage and confidence than Tivon remembered to ever have had he leaned upward and was met halfway, their lips brushing gently together.

It was only after a moments hesitation that the sylvari's lips pressed further in, harsher, _harder_ , head turning and slanting, and Tivon moaned against the lips, the sound muffled and weak, but he didn't care what he sounded like. His arms rose to grasp the sylvaris arms, held him close, closer, _closer_ , didn't want to let go, and yet in the corner of his mind there was a voice reminding him that he needed to return, that his friends were worried, that now, if it came to it, he had a way of bringing the sylvari _to_ him.

The sylvari hummed in appreciation and then slowly leaned back, breaking the kiss, his eyes filled with the desire for _more_ , and that gaze brought a spiral of heat through Tivon's body, but the sylvari stepped away, creating physical distance that left Tivon feeling cold, abandoned almost, which was a selfish thought considering all that the sylvari had given him. _Idiot,_ Tivon cursed himself once again and took a deep breath to ground himself.

“You should return.”, the sylvari murmured, remnants of a similar heat that Tivon still felt in those dark, heavy eyes. “If I keep you any longer, I am afraid your friends will turn the city upside down.”

Tivon chuckled at that, could just about imagine Braham uprooting trees to find him and Rox kissing one of her luck charms, wishing for his safe return. “Yeah.”, he said and his hands drifted from the sylvaris shoulder, his one hand idly playing with the bud that rested against his neck. The sylvari took his other hand, squeezed it and gave him a warm smile, and then Tivon nodded and made his way toward the city slowly, the feeling of those fingers slowly brushing and falling from his grasp leaving a shiver to trail over his spine and even as he found the road, even as he walked through the gates of the city, he could think of little else but the warm thrum in his fingers where the touch had been.

It was all rather a blur, the many people, the market place, even though during daylight the city looked less threatening, less run-down than it did at night, but even now Tivon felt watched. Humans stared after him with piqued interest and he did not like being the center of attention, not at all. It was this that made him hurry and take unnecessary roads that were less crowded – just to get away from those estranged and curious glances.

Not that Tivon could truly blame them. His race had a similarity in appearance to the humans, perhaps they had even been shaped after them, but that much Tivon did not know, and he found it barely mattered. The sylvari would make their own mark upon the world – _had_ already done so, from the many stories that sometimes wafted toward his ears about the Pact leaders that had taken down Zaithan, an _Elder Dragon_.

By the Pale Tree, how did anyone even _do_ that? You could hardly riddle such a massive, magical beast with arrows, nor could one hope to cut it open with a simple steel sword. How then? How had the Pact managed to do this?

Impossible. _Insane,_ even, to attempt it. Yet they had, and they had _succeeded._ He gave a snort of laughter that here they were, looking after trouble-making sylvari when Tyria had proven that combined, they could best _Elder Dragons_.

When he reached the inn once again Braham and Rox sat at the table and looked up at him, and even though they tried to show their confidence that they had believed he would return, the relief was still painted in their features clear as day. Derry came running toward him eagerly, left behind on such short notice, and Vail crowed accusingly from Rox's left horn.

“Well, look who it is.”, Braham grinned, clearly in much better spirits than this very morning. Tivon approached them with a broad smile and sunk into a chair beside them. “We were about to head out to look for you. What had you in such a hurry? You missed all the fun.”

“What? Fun?”, Tivon asked and then, with theatrical outrage, “You, having fun without _me_?”

“Couldn't be helped. Certain someone ran off.”, Rox grinned. “We went to the arena. Braham was going on about honing his skills, but I think he just wanted to smash something.”

“Hey. Smashing is good.”, Braham grinned back and took a swig from his mug, and now that Tivon looked more closely he could see faint trails of sweat glistening on Braham's forehead.

The waitress came by and Tivon ordered some raw meat strips and a cup of water, and the look she gave him was _hilarious,_ almost, if Rox and Braham did not give him the very same questioning glance. “That's not for me.”, he chuckled. “I have a few more mouths to feed.”

“And I thought you wanted to roast them over the fire.”, Braham replied mirthfully. “There is a hearth upstairs – if that's what humans call a hearth anyway.”

“Tempting.”, Tivon grinned. “I think going to the arena is not a bad idea. Tomorrow, I mean. There's still a thing or two Vail hasn't quite caught up with yet.” The raven turned its head away with a pout and Tivon held out his arm with a playful smile, waited patiently while Rox and Braham chuckled and then Vail finally gave in and flew over to him, a short enough distance that it was just a jump, and landed on Tivon's arm with claws digging in, but Tivon would not trade that sharp pain for anything in the world.

“Well, it's still a few days till the Ending Ceremony.”, Braham shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “We can just go again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Frostbite definitely needs to learn how to heel.”, Rox looked down at the devourer that was still little more than a baby, even thought its shell had started to grow as well as the body beneath, the shell the color of tarnished sand.

“Well then.”, Tivon grinned and when the meat finally arrived, Vail and Derry lapped it up eagerly. “Training it is.”

  


The city was filled to the brim when the Ending Ceremony drew near, and it was this – and of course, the threat of the still unknown sylvari – that made the Seraph inside the city patrol all the more vigilantly. Tivon could see them, both day _and_ night, patrolling through the passages in groups of three, and it made him wonder if there had always been quite so many Seraph and he had not noticed – or if most of them were running double shifts.

He thought it was the latter, considering most of them had a bad temper, were easily aggravated, and even beneath the golden plated helmets Tivon recognized the signs of wear and fatigue on their faces, especially their dark, sunken eyes.

What was Thackeray thinking, exerting his soldiers like this? If the Ending Ceremony was supposed to be safe, guarded, _secure_ , then surely he could not want exhausted Seraph standing duty at the festivities. This was the pique of all the activities and as such it was _now_ that everything needed to go smoothly, that the arena and pavilion needed to be secure.

Despite it all, Tivon could not blame Thackeray, however. It was the Queen and the Countess that had made the – in Tivon's opinion foolish and pride-inspired – decision to keep the festivities going. What good was a statement to the world that humanity prevailed, when at the day such a thing was to be celebrated things could go awry?

Tivon had a hunch. His leafs were itching, even Vail was pecking around nervously, claws digging in as the Raven moved from side to side restlessly. Tomorrow the Ending Ceremony would commence and perhaps he was wrong. Maybe everything was going to be alright, a foolish decision without any further consequence, but that was just what he kept telling himself.

He was crouching on a a small balcony, gaze drifting over the any rooftops that were so far below the thought of falling should have been _sickening,_ but all Tivon felt was elevation at the night breeze, the slight tingle of it over his skin, through his ferns and his armor, easing some of the tension away. He found peace in this, staring over the city at night, watching the dim lights slowly flickering and fading shut behind the windows, curtains drawing shut, sleep taking over the city and everything growing almost eerily quiet.

Tivon took a deep breath, relishing the fresh drag of cold air and let his hand glide idly toward the petal that rested against his clavicle still beneath his shawl. He felt the petals underneath his fingertips, soft like silk, and part of him wanted to pluck one free, to have the sylvari by his side again, but that would just be selfish, wouldn't it? He did not want to be selfish. Not like this. With a steadying breath he let his hand drop, and even though gravity should be on his side it was as though he was fighting a pull, struggling to give in to his desire. No, no. He wouldn't. This...it was a sign of _trust_. One Tivon did not want to exploit with his silly, ridiculous desires -

An arm slung around his middle and he very nearly made a startled yell that broke into a breathless gasp, body titling forward dangerously close to the edge and a heavy throb pulsed in his fibres when he saw the looming depth, but he saw it only for a moment before he was pulled back onto the safety of the balcony, his naked feet scraping uselessly for halt and his body was pulled into a tight embrace, and before he even got to think _danger_ or _panic_ or anything among those lines the scent of lavender drifted into his nose and he hitched a breath, his back pressing against the sylvari's chest.

“Easy there.”, the voice behind him said, low and a little husky, warm breath ghosting over the shell of his ear and among the rush of warmth and sudden vigor at his very near fall he felt a shiver quivering through his body. He raised his hands to rest them upon the arm that was slung around his middle and relaxed, shoulder falling and body leaning back.

He took another deep breath before he trusted himself to speak. “That was...”, another serrated breath. “You scared me.”

The chuckle was close to his ear, the warmth of the sylvari's chest pervaded through Tivon's armor, through to his back, the fingers curling into his flank more tightly, protectively, pulling him closer. “I was certain I would startle you, no matter what I would have done.”, the sylvari said and Tivon chuckled at that, his chest shaking ever so slightly at the motion. He was probably right. Tivon had been so focussed, too lost in thought.

“How do you even do that?”, he asked and turned his head, saw the pattern glowing ever so faintly from the edge of his vision, could see the eyes meeting his own. “Nobody can sneak up on me but you.”

“Perhaps it is because you let your guard down around me.”, the sylvari said with a quirk of his lips that was nothing but _teasing_ and then he leaned down and planted a soft, sweet kiss to the side of Tivon's head.

Tivon smiled and sighed at the feeling of warmth that spread through him. With the arm slung around his middle, his body held securely in a warm embrace, his back leaned back just the slightest in a gesture of submission and repose, all the worries that had swirled in his mind about the coming next day faded into the back of his head. “I would _never_ do _that_.”, Tivon jested, knew that there had been numerous occasions in which he had been less than careful, reckless, almost.

“You do it...repeatedly.”, the sylvari murmured, voice low and ... _hurt?_

Tivon immediately tensed and turned, even though the arm slung around him tried to keep him there, but the sylvari had no strength to keep Tivon from looked at him, not when he _needed_ to see, when he needed to be face to face. It was there, written all over the sylvaris features. Worry. Anxiety. Fear. And Tivon wanted to take it all away, if only he could, wanted to cradle the sylvari in his arms and protect _him_ , just once, just _this one time_.

But emotions were a fickle thing, under no-one's control, and even Tivon was almost powerless in their wake, just like everybody else. “I'll be careful”. Tivon promised, tried to bring his sincerity across by meeting those beautiful dark eyes with a steady gaze. He would be _more_ careful from now on, not for his own sake, but so he never inflicted this _pain_ onto the sylvari's features again.

The hand, now resting on the small of Tivon's back, squeezed lightly. “The Queen was foolish to see these festivities through.”, the sylvari murmured. “There is no telling what will happen tomorrow – but it will most certainly not be uneventful.” The dark eyes stared into Tivon's own green ones, and even though the words had not been spoken, Tivon could almost _hear_ them, vibrating through his soul. _“And you are right in the middle.”_

“I _have_ to go.”, Tivon insisted firmly and his hands grasped the sylvaris shoulders, fingers curling around the night-shade bark. “Rox has to be there, and if something happened to her, or Braham...” The thought brought a sharp pain through his chest as if someone struck a splinter through him. “I need to be there.”

“That sylvari woman...”, the sylvari murmured, eyebrows furrowing. “She is dangerous.”

Tivon nodded. “I know. She seems...crazed. Insane, almost. The way she treated us, as if we were not even taken seriously...” a shiver ran over Tivon's back. An enemy that was quite so _confident_ meant that there was a reason. Behind that insanity, behind that madness, Tivon could not help but wonder if a genius lay beneath.

Of course his reaction, the soft shiver that ran over his back and his averted thoughtful eyes, did little to alleviate any of the worry in the sylvari's features and Tivon cursed himself inwardly and looked up, met those eyes with a steady, certain gaze.

“I will be fine.”, Tivon said, and his voice was low, almost a whisper and he lifted his hand and cupped the sylvaris cheek ever so gently, feeling the almost crushing need to palliate events that were out of his control – and he felt foolish for it too, knew that it was irrational and _stupid_ , but he could not stop it. Not when the sylvari looked quite so concerned. For him, he had to try.

And slowly, ever so slowly the sylvari gave Tivon a small nod and lifted his hand to rest it upon Tivon's, warmth spreading over the back of Tivon's hand, and the sylvari leaned into the touch and closed his eyes and he looked – yielding, submitting and accepting. “I will be there.”, he murmured and Tivon felt the brush of air on his cheeks, warmth filling his chest, and when those dark eyes opened and Tivon saw the pattern glowing in the night, gleaming like a silver lining on the sylvari's skin, pulsing ever so softly in a steady beat.

Tivon forgot everything around him. The fact that they were standing on a balcony, that it was the middle of the night, that he was in Divinity's Reach – it all ceased to matter. And it was this, Tivon suddenly realized, the fact that the sylvari managed to break his focus from everything else, to concentrate only on _him_ , that even though Tivon adored nature, the stars – the _world –_ the sylvari was so much more to him.

There was a short pause – a pause in which Tivon fought the unfolding gravity that formed between them, the pull so very strong it could have torn the moon from the sky. His breath hitched as he resisted, lips parted to drag in air, and the sylvari followed the motion hungrily with his eyes and Tivon's head begun to swim and spin, spiralling toward emotion, toward the more greedy, carnal part of him and before he could try to decide what to do all his thoughts came to a halt, interrupted, _stilled_.

Lips pressed against his own in harsh demand and Tivon gasped in surprise, the arm around his lower back pulling him in _tightly_ , holding him in place, refusing to let go, and Tivon moaned lowly, craned his neck in answer and the sylvari leaned into him as he held him, forced him to bend backwards in a curvaceous bow. Soft, warm lips slanted over his own and when the sylvari pulled him in and Tivon's pelvis dragged against the sylvari's thigh a surge of pleasure sparked through him, the fibres in his body suddenly coming to life and heat coiled in his abdomen, circling, spiralling, smouldering and when he opened his mouth to catch some suddenly much needed air, the sylvaris tongue invaded his mouth, teasing his tongue in slick circles and – _thorns –_ the sensations were much, much, _too much_ , but he didn't want to stop, not even if it meant loosing his grip on his own sanity.

His own hand had fallen onto the sylvaris shoulder, holding on, almost _clutching_ at the skin, his legs felt weak under the sudden jolts of pleasure that made it hard to _think_ , no, made it hard to _function_ at all.

The sylvari's tongue delved deeper, pressed his slick tongue down against the root of his mouth and Tivon made a noise that was a surprised and embarrassed groan, but the sylvari only hummed in response, a sound that was almost a _purr_ and Tivon melted, his mind fuzzy, his body burning and – had the night not been cold? When had it become so sweltering?

The sylvari pulled back slightly and Tivon felt the grip around his back tightening ( _How_ was there still so much more power left in that grip? He couldn't even break free right now, not even if he wanted. His arms felt like pudding, his legs like wet wax) and there was a rush of air and the world spun for a brief second and Tivon huffed when his back was pressed against the cold stone wall, a hand cradling his head to take the brunt of the impact. There was only a split second for Tivon to even register what had happened when that mouth was on his again, kissing, no, _devouring_ , and Tivon gasped when the sylvari's thigh pressed against his groin, pressure increasing and _By the Pale Tree_ , he'd never felt this unbound heat, this swelling desire, the rising pleasure before. It overwhelmed him in its searing intensity and when the thigh moved against him in a rhythmic motion Tivon almost cried out, but the sound was muffled by the lips over his own, savored and suppressed.

His whole body tensed, the pleasure clouding his mind, rising and rising like the tide on a full moon, heat swirling, sweltering, _stifling_ , curling deep in his core and rising up into his head over his spine in pulses. It was suddenly so much, _too_ much, and when he felt the stirring in his groin a spark of fear went through him at what the sylvari would think, what he would say-

 _By the Pale Tree_ , he'd embarrass himself. He couldn't...not when the sylvari was so close, not when the sylvari would notice... Tivon whimpered, fingers pressing against the sylvari's shoulders with barely any strength, desire and shame fighting a battle deep within and, _thorns_ , he couldn't let the sylvari notice how aroused he was just from this, that would be utterly embarrassing, so _humiliating_...

Even with his more than feeble attempt the sylvari noticed the pressure against his shoulders and obliged, leaning back slightly and breaking the kiss, hot, labored breath washing over Tivon's cheeks and two white-dark eyes staring at him with unbound _heat_ and _want_ that Tivon shivered – and was only more reminded of the hardness in his armor, straining and pulsing.

“I'm...I'm sorry.”, Tivon rasped between breaths. “I...this...” He couldn't find the right words, not when those eyes stared at him with such obvious lascivious desire, not when the arm slung around his back curled around him even more, not when he was about not only to make a fool out of himself, but probably disappoint the sylvari as well. _Oh, By the Pale Tree, what do I do?_

The sylvari waited, the heavy, laden gleam retreating ever so slowly, fading and leaving only worry behind. “Tivon.”, the sylvari said and Tivon glared toward the stone tiles on the balcony floor as if somehow they were to blame, but all he had to blame was himself. Why, why _Oh Why_ was he making a mess out of this? All he wanted...he was not even _sure_ what it was that he wanted. “Tivon.”, the sylvari tried again, more concerned this time and the male's body leaned in against him, body warm and somehow too _tight_ , and Tivon bit his lip just shy of hurting. “Tivon, it's alright.”

He looked up at that, eyes glistening, not with tears, but with self-loathing and trepidation. How was this alright? He'd broken the moment for a reason he wasn't even _sure_ of himself. It was simple uncertainty, perhaps even _fear_ , the terror of being quite so close, so open with _anyone_ , even though Tivon could not think of anyone he'd rather be close with. He wanted this, so why, why, _why_ was he holding himself back?

A hand rose to cup his cheek with intense gentleness and Tivon trembled, had to summon all his strength to keep holding the gaze because he owed...he owed the sylvari that much if not so, so much more. For his patience, for the fact that he put up with all of Tivon's idiocy, for being quite so calm and understanding and _soothing_.

“Is it going too fast? You...You need to talk to me.”

 _By the tablet and the Pale Mothers branches,_ this was _too_ much. “I don't know.”, Tivon croaked out, voice pathetically feeble and weak, his body suddenly felt as if he was wearing the bark of another, a stranger in his own skin. Maybe, just maybe... it was. Maybe it was too fast. Maybe it wasn't. Tivon _couldn't_ tell. He _felt_ his body reacting, he felt the pleasure, the rise of tide that could not be kept at bay, and yet it was...it was...threatening. Strong. So very overwhelming it...terrified him. “Maybe. Maybe...it is. I don't know.”

And against all the odds, against absolutely everything that Tivon's terrified mind screamed at him could and _should_ happen, the sylvari gave him a warm, encouraging smile. “That's alright.”, the sylvari said gently, voice soothing, and the hand cupping his cheek leaned further against his skin, fingers tracing over his pattern. “We are not in a hurry.”

 _Oh._ Just what, what _what_ had he done to deserve this? This patience, this tenderness, the feeling of being _accepted_ ? Tivon telegraphed his gratitude by raising his hand to place it over the sylvari's and leaning into the touch and he closed his eyes with a sigh, the anxiety that had clawed into his flesh slowly easing and ebbing away like a nightmare after waking. “I'm sorry.”, Tivon repeated, because that was all he could do. To give this deep, curling fear a name was simply impossible. It was a fear deeply entwined with _closeness_ , with _connection_ and _affection_ , with offering absolutely everything – and perhaps, afterwards, having _nothing left to give_.

He had only himself. Nothing more.

The sylvari sighed and Tivon felt his lips brush over his forehead, sweet and tender, almost _achingly_ so, placing gentle kisses there that were soothing and mollifying and he wished that he could undo what he had done, because now...now, it felt as though he had conjured something between them, a wall that Tivon wasn't sure he could climb.

When the sylvari leaned back again Tivon opened his eyes, eyelids feeling heavy, laden with a weight that was from his own bitter shame, the green of his eyes gleaming in the dark night highlighted brilliantly. “You can tell me. Always.”, the sylvari murmured, his hand dropping slowly from Tivon's cheek. “In fact, you _have_ to.” A shiver ran over Tivon's spine at the thought, reminded of just how _hard_ it had been to pull back, to stop...all because of _fear._ “I can not read your mind. But I can understand if you tell me what's going on in your head and we can work it out. Together.”

Tivon's chest gave a painful squeeze and his throat felt constricted as if a string was curled and pulled tightly around it at the tenderness of those words. They rang a cord deep within his soul, and a voice echoed somewhere in his head _See? It's alright, don't be so afraid_.

“I'm just...”, he took a deep breath. _Come on_ , he told himself. _I owe him this._ “I told you that I was new to this. It's...it's quite overwhelming.”

The sylvari chuckled and lifted a hand to brush it through the ferns atop Tivon's head, leaving goose flesh in its wake, a prickling sensation that travelled over the back of his head down the spine and he almost _purred_ at the feeling. “You control the pace.”, the sylvari said and the hand in Tivon's foliage stilled, his voice deep and full. “Is that alright?”

 _Thorns and Vines._ “Yes.”, Tivon croaked and raised his arms, brought them to rest tightly against the sylvaris back and pulled him into an embrace, leaned his head against the sylvari's shoulder and took a deep, staggering breath. “Yes.”, he repeated, uplifted, content, serene.

The sylvari pulled Tivon closer, long fingers spanning and threading through the leafs, rustling softy and Tivon sighed into the touch, the warmth, the _scent_ , the fact that despite his anxiety, his stupidity, despite his _everything_ the sylvari was still here. “Alright.”, the sylvari said, voice hushed and warm breath skimming over the shell of his ear.

“I really...”, Tivon whispered against the crook of the sylvari's neck and registered a bare, flushed shiver tremble through the sylvari's body as he spoke, “I really want to do this right.”

The sylvari chuckled and shook his head in a barely noticeable motion. “There is no such thing as doing it _wrong_ , Tivon.”

“That's what you say.”, Tivon murmured. “But I feel like such a fool.”

“Listen to your instincts.”, the sylvari answered. “They are your strongest asset. If this feels wrong...perhaps it's too early. Too fast. Or...not meant to be.”

Tivon leaned back to look into the sylvari's eyes and saw...no, oh no, not again. _Hurt_ . And uncertainty. Perhaps Tivon was not quite so alone feeling vulnerable, _open_. He grabbed the sylvari's shoulders, fingers curling into the bark. “I want this.”, Tivon assured him, held the gaze with determination. “I want us. Don't...don't think I changed my mind.”

“I have told you before,” the sylvari said, his arms dropping as well until his hands rested atop Tivon's forearms, eyes filled with a mixture of emotions that flickered by too fast to decipher, but among it all, Tivon could see certainty and conviction. “That you will regret this.” And again, there was hurt, and almost a silent _plea_ for Tivon to listen and...what? Turn? Walk away?

Like hell he would.

“Never.”, Tivon said in defiance and leaned forward, his lips brushing over the sylvaris in daring initiative, and this feeling of being so close, teasing, bare inches away, it was a sense of power that Tivon had not realized was inherent in this sort of action. “Not when...While I...”, he said, voice low, almost a whisper, and he saw the sylvari's eyes widen just a fraction before he finally brought out the words he'd thought, those very words he had carried with him and that had scarred him ever since he had first thought them. “...I love you.”

And he pushed his lips against the sylvari's, eager, earnest, _keen,_ a sudden burst of need to _convey_ the message in every conceivable way possible; with a tilt of his head, the harsh press of body against the sylvari, his hands roaming over bark, and then the sylvari kissed him back, fire and flame and _conflagration_ . He heard himself sigh and moan, his fingers scraping at skin when he lifted his hand to lift it to the sylvari's neck and pull him in imperiously and the sylvari _yielded_ , pressing into him, leaning down for easier access, both too lost in the barrage and eruption of emotion breaking free.

This was exhilarating.

And terrifying at the same time.

Did that make any sense? Any at all? To bear out his body and soul, his feelings, _everything_ ? _Yes,_ he thought when he gasped into the kiss, the slick of the sylvari's tongue darting out over his bottom lip, making his legs quiver, _Yes, this was both._

Because he still knew so little and what the sylvari said worried him, terrified him, made him all that more curious, too curious for his own good.

When Tivon broke away to gasp for air the sylvari did not resist, did not keep him there, and Tivon gave him a broad, breathless, loving smile that the sylvari returned with a caring and affectionate gaze, and when Tivon titled his head forward and closed his eyes, the sylvari gentle rested his forehead against his own in a gesture of comfort and intimacy, theirs breaths coming in steady, gentle brushes in the cooling night air.

 _Come what may_ , Tivon thought daringly. _The cat has nine lives._

  


“I like this party.”, Braham said with a twirl of his mace when the centaurs had finally been beaten back – once again. “It's not quite a Cragstead moot, but Krytans definitely know how to stage a celebratory fight.”

“Sadly we have to stop fighting for now.”, Rox cut in, her green eyes glazing up toward the platform. “It's almost time for the closing ceremony and I'm expected. Officers duty an all.”

“Oh good; another speech. I'll go and listen, but when she is done talking, I'm back to beating on those mechanical men.”

“Watchknights.”, Tivon corrected and crouched toward the ground when Derry dashed toward him with his tongue leaping out at the side of his mouth, a happy wide grin on the hounds face. Tivon awaited him with wide arms and caught him against his chest, ruffled the ferns lovingly. “Well done Derry.” He got a bark as an answer, and a scoff from Braham.

“Nerd.”, the norn murmured with no heat, and even though Tivon did not turn to look, he heard the smile and laughed.

When Vail finally returned on Tivon's shoulder they slowly made their way up the ledge toward the platform, and from there toward the stairs and up to the outer circle onto the observing ramparts from which they could view the staging area.

“So, Tivon.”, Rox murmured as they ascended the stairs. “I was wondering if you are sick or something.”

“Sick?”, Tivon repeated and gave Rox a surprised look. “I don't think I have been sick in all my life.”

“What I meant to say,” Rox quickly redeemed, “was that I am curious why you wear a shawl.”

His hand raised toward the cloth immediately, fingers curling into the fabric. He could tell them, right? They were his friends. Surely they would understand. Tivon came to a halt and quickly turned around, checking for any idle observants, but they were alone.

“Oh dear.”, Rox said when she noticed his reaction. “I shouldn't have asked, should I?”

“It's...fine.”, Tivon said and sighed. “I told you about my time in Southsun, right?” Braham was frowning at him and Rox nodded, and slowly Tivon lifted his hand and began to uncurl the shawl from his shoulders, the material drifting easily over his taunt frame. “Kiel was ordered to decimate the inhabitant species called the Karka.”, he begun explaining, and when he lifted the last layer he revealed the creature clinging to his shoulder. “And...I couldn't allow that to happen.”

The Karka made a chirping noise, suddenly exposed to the sunlight, small, dark eyes blinking furiously in the brightness. Rox stepped closer, eyebrows furrowed, head leaning forward.

“I thought they were bigger.”, she admitted. “It's...so small.”

“I believe that Karka actually have a long lifespan. Ancient, even. But it's hard to tell.”

“Why hide him?”, Braham asked. “Or her. Dunno.”

“I didn't want to go behind Kiel's back and bring her into the predicament of knowing this. It is best she doesn't, means less trouble for her. Plus...It hardly ever lets go.”, he chuckled. When he looked down he noticed the Frostbite had suddenly gone eerily quiet, dark, pearl like eyes staring up toward the Karka with piqued interest.

Rox noticed it too and laughed. “Frostbite likes him. Her. It. Ugh.”

“Him.”, Tivon finally clarified and scratched the Karka on its shell and it gave a happy chirp.

“No offense, but..how do you know? No, don't answer, I don't wanna know.”

Tivon laughed. “It's the bond of companionship. I just...know.”

“That's a much better answer than what I had in my head.”, Braham chuckled at himself. “So you have to keep hiding it?”

Tivon hesitated. Was that...really necessary anymore? Surely he would see Kiel again, yet even if he did, she would never try to take his companion away from him, and if Magnus tried, Tivon'd defend it, with his life if he had to. Such was the bond of companionship.

He stared at the shawl in his fingers, considering, pondering, and perhaps it was time to be more daring. “I...guess not.”, he admitted and looked up at Braham who had given him that chain of thought, his mind slowly processing the decision, but he found no good reason to hide the Karka, not any longer and with one last glance at the shawl he moved up the stairs toward the railing and bound it there tightly – just so that someone who might be in more need than him could take it, now that he had no use for it any longer.

It was symbol of sorts and Tivon felt lighter without it, the breeze finally also reaching around his shoulders again, and the little necklace around his neck was no longer hidden, easy for him to access and grasp and all that reflected a freedom that Tivon cherished.

“So, you got a name for the little buddy?”, Braham asked and gave Tivon a sheepish look.

“You look like you have an idea.”, Tivon grinned back.

“Shelly.”, Braham supplied and Tivon could hold back his laughter for a second before he shook his head and wheezed.

“Oh, by the Tablet, no no.”, he puffed out.

“Tor-toi?”, Braham continued and watched as Tivon almost bend over from laughter, a broad smile arching up the corners of his mouth. “What about Pinchy?”

Even Rox was now chuckling as they slowly made their way to their assigned place, Tivon the one holding the group back while he constantly had to come to a stop to catch his breath, his pale-green eyes watering from his laughter and glistening in the sunlight.

“Stop it.”, Rox laughed. “You'll kill him. Look at him, he can barely breathe.”

And finally Braham laughed too, his voice loud and vibrating, almost _booming_ , and Tivon just couldn't hold it together and held his abdomen while he chortled and giggled. It took a moment for them all to calm down and Tivon took a deep, soothing breath, one last chuckle escaping him as he wiped at his eye. “By the Tree.”, Tivon murmured with a broad smile. “Remind me to _never_ ask you for names.”

“Nobody appreciates my artistry.”, Braham joked with a theatrical pout.

“We would if you put some actual effort into it. Shush now you two, it's starting.”, Rox hushed them, but in her voice no heat. In fact she too was smiling, and Tivon listened to the Queen's voice as it echoed over the arena below, her form so small and distant he barely recognized her from so far away. She was wearing a brilliant white dress, but that was all Tivon could see. He leaned his forearms onto the railing, body hunched forward slightly and Braham joined beside him, whereas Rox looked a bit more stiff.

“Thank you all for coming. This event is ending, but humanity's resolve will never waver. We have withstood every challenge thrown at us. Because unity is our strength. Together, there is nothing we cannot withstand.”

All the joy, the mirth, the happiness – it suddenly turned into a cool puddle in Tivon's chest when he heard that voice once again. _Her_ voice.

“Aaaand that's my cue. Hello, DR!” At first Tivon could not determine where the voice was coming from when all of a sudden, in the middle of the air, standing atop a flickering, magitech platform, was that same strange sylvari woman, this time her head uncovered and not hidden behind a cape, two flaming red pigtails resting atop her head, her pale green skin skimming from underneath a strange looking attire Tivon did not recognize seeing before. “My name is Scarlet, and I've come to play with you.”

Tivon had barely hesitated a second: He moved back, pulled the bow from his shoulder and knocked in an arrow the very next second, already aiming at the sylvari woman whose back was turned toward him, her entire attention on the queen that stood on a small advance that was connected to a large wooden door.

“Don't panic...yet. I've been laughing my leaves off while your queen brays about 'trials' and 'endurance'.”, Scarlet crackled.

“She's armed.”, Rox beside him hissed and there was a strange red hue covering everything around them as though the sun had decided to set early and Tivon lifted his eyes from his target, looking up with a frown.

Braham had pulled his mace and shield free, his pale grey eyes surveying the area, mace already twirling, the massive shield raised and shoulders tense.

“It's time to show how fragile human society is. To wit: these 'watchknights' you're so proud of? Mine now.”

As if her word alone had been a command Tivon heard the sizzle in the air, felt the electrostatic and when he whirled around he saw that all the watchknights that had stood to guard around the pavilion suddenly began to glow with a venomous green color, changing and twisting right before their eyes, gears and metal plates shifting until the watchknight formed into metallic monstrosities.

The metallic screeches and noises from the suddenly panicked onlookers nearly were louder than Scarlets voice. Nearly. “I've also planted a few bombs around the city to keep things lively. Bet you can't find them all! Ta! For now. See you soon!”

“Oh no you don't.”, Tivon murmured under his breath, bow pulled taunt, aimed and shot. The arrow wheezed and just inches before hitting its mark it hit a barrier of some sort that sizzled with an electric current and Scarlet shot a sharp glare over her shoulder, her eyes fixing on Tivon for barely a second who was still standing with his bow raised and his eyes wide, but she did not even speak to him. Instead she turned back around as though he was nothing but a minor distraction and he cursed himself inwardly. “We have to-”, he wanted to shout to his companions over the rising noises, but Scarlet spoke once more, her voice amplified.

“Oh, and I'll be taking your queen with me. Hang on, your Majesty. It's going to be a wild ride.” Scarlet took her rifle, knelt onto her hovering platform and aimed at the Queen.

Tivon's fingers suddenly felt numb when all he could do was knock in another arrow and saw it splinter into non-existence against that blasted shield once again, Scarlets shot hitting its mark. Where the shot landed there was a large explosion, the ground of the pavilion shook and a cloud of dust rose from where the advance had been, and the noises and screams suddenly were deafeningly loud all around them.

Scarlet disappeared in a ball of static and Tivon stared with anxiety toward the cloud of dust as it slowly settled, saw that very same human noble he had seen at the center of the arena at the opening ceremony slowly waving the dust away and there, dangling on the edge was a figure in white, almost gleaming in the dim, red light.

The human ran up toward her, knelt down to reach for her and as soon as he got a hold of her arm the figure _shattered_. There was only a brief moment in which the human stared, startled and dumbfounded, before the ground gave way under him and Tivon was forced to watch as the human fell forward, desperately trying to hold on, only to fall forward into the darkness beneath and disappearing, his screams fading away.

“By the Pale Tree.”, Tivon breathed, a soft breeze washing over his skin and making him shiver. How had all of this gone so horribly, horribly wrong? When he turned his head he had no time to get lost in his thoughts; the watchknights, or whatever they were now, were attacking everyone not cautious enough and he pulled out two arrows.

“Finally some action. Come on Rox, Tiv.”, Braham said.

“Frostbite's ready. Let's go.”, Rox nodded, her green eyes squinted, bow pulled from her shoulder, an arrow knocked into the string, claw holding it tight.

“Now _this_ is a party!”, Braham beamed with a smile.

“Not the _time_ , Braham!”, Tivon argued as they ran across the paved stones, the red hue coloring everything as if by a blood-moon. It was eerie, somehow dim and dark, and Tivon looked up toward the sky, wondering what was causing the distortion of light, but his eyes caught on something else instead. Something blinking with furious red from behind a small figurine made from greens and branches and Tivon dashed over, jumped up at the hip-height stone and pushed past the greens covering his sight away, heard Braham and Rox protest behind him.

“Tiv, what are you doing?!”, Rox asked and Tivon crouched down, inspected the device and stilled. It blinked furiously and now that he was close enough, he could hear it beep.

“It's a bomb.”, he called and turned his head back toward his companions as they approached him. “Scarlet was telling the truth. We have to split up and disable them!”

“By the wolf.”, Braham cursed, his eyes darting over the place before he nodded. “Do you know how to disable that?”

“I...I think so.”, Tivon said, but he was not quite so sure. The device was small and had a dark, grey color, there were quite a few buttons on it and Tivon saw no sign of any cables and studied it more closely, did not dare to touch it recklessly. Perhaps he was imagining it, but the blinking got more furious, the frequency of its beeps increasing, but that just had to be his nerves talking.

Right?

 _Calm down_ , he told himself and gulped, tried to remember anything from his dream that might help him with this. He had heard something about an engineer once, but...

“Here goes nothing.”, Tivon said, feeling less confident that...well, _ever_ , really, and he took the device in his hands and pressed a button at (basically) random. He stilled, closed his eyes, expecting to be blown to smithereens – but the device was quiet and stopped blinking.

He gave a relieved sigh and jumped from the small podest, nervousness making every fibre in his body thrum and he saw the tail of Rox swishing just around a corner, probably having discovered another of the bombs.

As he dashed over the place and paced up a small pair of stairs toward a winded podest with another of those strange, green figurines he could see Captain Thackeray slowly gathering the civilians at the great stairs, ready to evacuate them to safety. When he passed around the corner a watchknight turned toward him, neon green eyes glaring down at him. It towered high over him, metal limps long, large, and _sharp._

“Woah!”, he made when an arm shaped liked a blade swung through the air with a swish and he jumped to the side, rolled over his back and stood, pulled his sword from its sheath. Derry barked loudly and jumped up towards the watchnkights thigh that was angled backwards by its joint, contorted and twisted, looking nothing similar to a human any longer. A spider, perhaps.

The creatures upper body rotated on its hips as if there was nothing truly attached there and Tivon blocked the blade that swung at him, but the blow and the momentum from the turn pushed him back and made him stumble backwards, the edge of the podest coming closer and he had no choice but to jump down when the watchnknight attempted to exploit his moment of unbalance.

Tivon sheathed his sword, took his bow instead and aimed with the arrowhead for a furiously blinking panel on the creatures spine when the watchnknight suddenly pulled two more pair of arms from its spine that swirled and rotated dangerously, and Vail crowed and gained height, flying higher to be out of range. The arm swung around and Tivon only saw the sliver of something glittering in the dim light when he realized it was a thin metal cord, but it was already coming around to where he stood.

The sharp sting of it against his skin made him grit his teeth and he lunged to the side, but the cord curled around his torso, trapping his arms close to his flanks and the bow fell from his grip, arrow falling into the soft grass. When the watchknight reversed the motion the cord unspooled him, the world turned and swam for a second and Tivon lost his balance until the ground rose to meet him and he gasped, but didn't stay down.

“Vail, the panel!”, Tivon cried when he turned onto his back onto his elbows and lifted himself to his feet and this time he ducked beneath the cord as it slapped by over his head, saw the white of Vail's feathers as the Raven moved like a silver feather, barely a small string, wings angled toward the raven's body and just before impact the raven shifted, wing opened, catching the fall, claws reaching and spreading out -

and digging into the panel, making it crack loudly and electricity sparkled, the watchknight made a strange, strangled noise and then succumbed where it stood, joints falling into one another into a heap on the ground.

He gave a sigh of relief and saw Braham in the distance jogging toward him. “I found two!”, the norn called and Tivon gave a nod in Braham's direction, collected his weapons from the ground and Vail claws dug into his shoulder.

“I found one!”, Rox called and appeared as well.

“Makes four.”, Tivon grunted.

“Oh, did I say _four_?”, Scarlets voice suddenly echoed as if she had overheard and Tivon glanced around, startled, but he saw no sign of her anywhere. “I meant _five_.”, she crackled and then her voice died in a noise of static.

Braham cursed under his breath, voicing what all three of them thought. _Shit_.

“Citizens stand clear. The Seraph will protect you!”, Captain Thackeray called, herding them all together at the stairs.

“We have to get the civilians out of here.”, Tivon said. “I will help Captain Thackeray round them up. Have you seen any sign of the ...alleged...last bomb?”

“Nothing, but I'll check again.”, Rox grumbled, her green eyes already searching over the area once again, her legs moving without any further comment. Braham also split off, still cursing – something about Bears' pelted behind and Wolfs' smelly breath.

Tivon's feet made loud slapping noises on the stone, each step impacting through his body. This...all of this chaos...and he could even see dead bodies around the gardens, those unfortunate enough to have been caught in the grasp of the watchknights before they could get away. And all because of pride.

 _No, focus_ , Tivon reminded himself. _You are no judge. You are here to pick up what you can, so focus._

He picked up a pair of nobles on his way, leading them to where Thackeray stood, and the man gave him a grateful glance, the usually stern eyes now grim under the light of those dark rings beneath his eyes. “Thank you.”, Logan said, his sword and shield tightly in his hand. “We will have to escort them -”

“My daughter is _still_ missing!”, a woman cried, tear streaks on her cheeks, and she looked as if she had pleaded with Thackeray already. He turned to look at her, eyes full of sympathy, but before he could tell her the obvious – that the Seraph were spread too far and wide, and _too_ thin, Tivon cut in,

“I'll find her.”, he said and the woman looked up at him through wet eyelashes, strikingly brown eyes glittering. “What does she look like?”

“She...she has brown hair, she's just ten. We...we were standing at the North side of the pavilion when...”

Tivon nodded and left the comforting to Thackeray. Derry's paws tapped right behind him as he made his way around the pavilion, the arc becoming an all-too-familiar shape now. He had rounded it so many times...and now it was proving to be quite a nuisance.

As his eyes scanned over the gardens, the greens, the strange figurines and the podests all that he asked for that she was _not_ dead. There were already so many bodies around, so many casualties...it did not have to be a child. Even though Tivon knew nothing of childhood because sylvari had none, he knew how very precious that time of innocence and ignorance as well as oblivion was to all humans – and most of them cherished the children above all. They were their legacy, all that would remain once ones own life had been spent.

Tivon thought that, despite the fact that humans were otherwise strangely peculiar, this was something he could understand. A legacy, something to leave behind in the world, a sign that ones life had not been entirely in vain in a world that was so much bigger than ones self.

Vail cried from somewhere and Tivon tore his head around, searching for his companion and followed the crow, the grass rustling under his feet and saw Vail sitting in front of a small bundle, no, a small girl that was sitting on the ground, knees pulled close and tight, her arms slung around her knees. When she heard Tivon approach she looked up fearfully, and brown eyes were the very same as her mothers.

“Hey.”, Tivon said and slowed his pace, approached her with tender care.

“No, stay away!”, she screeched and Tivon lifted his hands.

“I am a friend.”, he soothed. “Your mother sent me. You need not be afraid. I'll bring you to Captain Thackeray. You'll be safe.”

She sniffed and pulled her legs closer and Tivon could see there were scratches on her arms, probably from hiding in the undergrowth in the gardens.

“You hid away didn't you?”, Tivon asked, approaching ever so slowly and carefully and she watched him, both with wary and curiosity. “That's very clever.”

“Where's mom?”, she asked and Tivon gulped. It was natural that she was in shock, that it would take for her to trust him. Heck, she probably had had the worst day of her life so far.

“She is with Thackeray.”, Tivon explained and crouched just a few feet away and was glad she did not back away. When he lifted his hand and reached out toward her she looked at his hand as though she had never seen anyone offer her a hand to stand – ever. “Come on, I will bring you to her.”

“Who are you?”, she asked, tears stilled.

“My name is Tivon.”, he introduced himself, and wanted to slap himself for not doing so sooner. “What's your name?”

“Sandra.”, she mumbled and Tivon gave her a broad smile.

“Well, this is Vail,” he pointed at the Raven that was jumping impatiently on its legs, “and this is Derry,” he pointed to his other side where Derry was wagging his tail. Derry barked and Sandra seemed to light up a little.

“He's...”

“A fern hound.”, Tivon finished for her. “It's not safe here, Sandra. How about I tell you all about Fern hounds while I take you to your mother?”

She stared at his hand again and reluctantly and hesitantly took it. Her hand was cold and was trembling and he gently pulled her along, felt a little uncomfortable holding the hand of someone so small. “I'm scared.”, she said, the fear making her eyes wide when she stared toward the pavilion and the distance separating her from her mother.

“Derry won't let anything happen to you.”

She followed him close on his heel and Vail was high up in the air, surveying for any danger, but they made it back without anything occurring at all. It was a lot smaller, Sandra sometimes going still in her fear, and it took a lot of Tivon's soothing words to get her to move again. When she saw her mother again in the distance all of that ceased to matter; the girl dashed forward, small legs suddenly moving especially fast, and the mother made a sound like a cry, sob and sigh, all in one and brought her daughter into her arms.

Tivon could see Braham and Rox approaching from the distance and he assumed they had found the last bomb – if there even was such a thing, and if Scarlet was to be believed. Which...she wasn't.

“Thank you.”, the mother breathed, her fingers tangling into her daughters hair, her eyes slightly bloodshot from tears. “Thank you so much.”

“It...it was nothing.”, Tivon stuttered, suddenly painfully overwhelmed with the amount of gratitude and scratched his neck nervously and when he looked at Logan, the Guardian gave him a firm nod with a hint of a smile.

“Come on.”, Logan ordered. “We are moving.” The citizens and nobles moved toward the stair and Tivon followed them, and that was when he heard. A buzzing coming from somewhere, growing louder and louder, until even the earth vibrated and Tivon frowned, turned his head in surprise and lifted his bow, arrow knocked almost on instinct, but he could not make out where the sound was coming from until he heard Vail cry out from above.

When he craned he neck it was too late.

“Tivon!”, he heard someone yell – he thought it was Braham – and he thought he imagined it, but the bud on his chest felt suddenly unnaturally hot and he gasped, a large shadow cast right over his and the group's heads. A large metallic figure came crashing from the sky, the buzzing impossibly loud now, the clanking of metal in his ears, and when it crashed into the ground everything around him shook, his body, the ground, and he felt a force crash into him that felt as though he had been hit with the trunk of a tree (and who could even _do_ that?) his body threatening to almost _fly_ backward when something kept him there, right where he stood, an equal strong force that was warm and broad and -

He gasped in surprise against the bulk of Braham's chest. The guardian had all but _leapt_ into him, nearly knocking him over, one arm squeezing him tightly against his body while his other was raised over his head, a blue glow illuminating them from above, casting an small protective orbit around them. Tivon was utterly stunned, body still in too much shock to fathom what had even occurred when Braham released him and turned around, and only then Tivon could see that behind Braham there was that giant, looming, _terrifying_ watchknight that had landed from out of nowhere and that bodies lay scattered around them, all those people, the citizens, the nobles... Only some had made it out alive, moving and withering on the ground, groaning in pain, and it was only Braham's frustrated cry that tore Tivon from his reverie.

He jumped back and shot at the watchknight, aimed for the joint connecting the lower body with the many, many legs and the upper body, preventing any rotation between them. Braham's mace crashed one of its legs and it lots its balance, Thackery cut into the spine as the figure lowered to the ground and Rox ended it by shooting an arrow right into its head, short circuiting everything and it made a metallic, echoing noise before a sizzle of electricity went over it and it succumbed, head falling forward as if in a bow, and then the watchknight stilled.

“God's...”, Thackeray murmured as he surveyed all those around them that had been caught in the sudden blast. “She's bombed our evacuation point. My men...All of those civilians...”

Tivon's eyes trailed down, searching over the bodies and he helped those up that he could, reminded himself that he could have been among them had it not been for Braham and Rox. As if the two of them had read his mind they approached him, equally worried.

“You Okay there?", Braham asked.

“M...me?”, Tivon stuttered and looked down at himself, dumbfounded, still not quite sure... There was not scratch on his body, nowhere at all. Just a small scorch mark on a leaf that circled his wrist and he looked up again. “Yeah. I'm...fine.”

“That was a close one.”, Rox sighed, but she smiled in relief. It was hard for Tivon to return it because they were in the presence of the many dead that...had not had his luck. Even though he knew that if they could have, they would have saved them all. It was needless guilt, Tivon knew, but letting it go was hard.

“Thank you once again.”, Logan murmured as he approached them, but there was an ordering note in his tone. “We will take the remaining civilians to safety. Follow me.”

They fell in after Logan, but at the top of the first stair they were greeted by a wall of Seraph that held their ground, and among them stood no other than Queen Jennah, her pale white dress less brilliant in the red hue that still covered everything.

“Forgive the deception, Logan. Countess Anise's security measures depended on as few people as possible knowing about them.”, there was almost an apologetic note in her voice. Almost.

“I'm glad you're safe, but I'm your Cap- a Seraph Captain. How can I serve if I'm not informed?”

“Don't be petulant.”, Countess Anise cut in coldly. “My job is to protect the queen from her enemies. Yours is to seek out and destroy those enemies. There were indications of a threat, so I concealed the real queen until it revealed itself. Now it had. And it's spreading. Reports from all over the globe tell of portals releasing Scarlet's twisted minions. What are you doing about it?”

“A fair question.”, Queen Jennah granted. “Scarlet can't be allowed to complete whatever it is she's started and she must be punished for the attempt.”

“Very well.”, Tackery yielded. “Scarlet is the problem, and she's in the pavilion. If she's using portals to send things out, we use portals to send things in.”

“Marshal whatever forces you need, Captain. Scarlet and her minions must be rooted out of that pavilion to face Krytan justice.”, Queen Jennah ordered.

“And do hurry.”, Anise had the audacity to demand. “The sooner we get in, the sooner we rescue the VIP hostages. Poor Faren...who'd have thought he had hero in him?”

Tivon gave Braham a glance. “Who?”, he whispered and leaned in, and Braham gave him a shrug and an expression that he too was none the wiser.

“What's the situation Captain?”, Rox asked. “Braham, Tivon and I are ready if you need us.”

“I'd welcome the help. Scarlet's clearly been planning this for a long time and she's several steps ahead of us. We have to catch up, fast. Our top priorities are to neutralize and find a way into that pavilion.”

“Neutralize means break, right?”, Braham asked with a grin. “Because I can do that.”

“That'll work for her minions but the door doesn't look breakable. We are going to need an alternative. Maybe portals?”

“I was talking to the asuran dignitary, Vorpp. He's an engineer with a background in asura gates and teleportation equipment.”, Rox supplied.

“Perfect. Se if he's ready and willing to help. In the meantime I'll organize Seraph patrols to protect the streets.”

Tivon had not realized that the asura Rox had mentioned was standing not a few feet away. “So, Vorpp, we need a way into Scarlet's playhouse. Ready to put your thaumo technical skills to use on behalf of DR?”

The asura had relatively pale skin and a strange, large hat with two horns at the front. “Of course.”, Vorpp said with a voice that sounded as if he was rolling his eyes. “I know of this Scarlet. She earned advanced engineering degrees at each of Rata Sum's colleges in record time. 'Engineering prodigy' they said. 'Intuitive group of phenomenological design and transcendent systems'. Pfah, I say. Pfah!” There was definitely a lot of pride that had been hurt. “I hate a show off, especially when they are showing me up. Count me in. Taking down Scarlet is a matter of asuran pride.”

“Asuran pride and human survival. Now let's put our heads together and figure out a way into that pavilion.”, Rox said, ever the diplomat, and Tivon admired how she so easily managed to tread that line.

“Before I can get you in I need more data from several attack sites. This is where it gets a bit...complicated.”, Vorpp said, scratching the back of his head with his hand. “Once I figured out the signature I can replicate it, but that means...”

“We will have to go where Scarlet's minions are.”, Tivon finished for him and Vorpp gave him a grave, single nod.

“Here, take these.” Vorpp searched through a small, round, brown backpack and gave Tivon two small items. “One is a sensor and calibration device. It will safe and energy residue left behind by Scarlets portal. This here is a communicator.” there was a short pause and Tivon gave him a questioning glance. “I do not have to tell you what that is for, do I?”

“No.”, Tivon agreed and looked up at Countess Anise who was giving the items a short glance-over before she noticed his gaze. “You said there are invasions happening. Can you give us some pointers, Countess?”

“Of course.”, the Countess said, her voice cool and collected as always. “Invasions are happening in Queensdale, Kessex Hills, Gendarran Fields, but also in Caldeon Forest.” She studied his face intensely as if she expected for him to do... _something,_ and he did not like the fact that something was quite so clearly expected of him and he did not know what it was.

“Well then.”, Braham said, breaking Tivon's attention away from his fumbling thoughts. “Let's smack some minions. Come on.” and took the lead.

  


The most exciting part had been the invasions themselves, yet among the fighting there had been such complete chaos that Tivon barely even remembered how many metallic puppets he had struck down. They came back to Divinity's Reach, tattered and exhausted, but with enough material that Vorpp had assured them over the communicator that it would suffice.

When Vorpp took his devices back the sun was setting and even in the dim light Tivon could still see the various Seraph guard patrolling the area. It had taken them one day to travel, push back one of many of Scarlet's invasions, always careful not to get carried away. Helping all those stuck in the middle of all this – whatever _this_ was – was almost compelling.

“I'll look into this. I'm sure I can fix something up by morning.”

“Perfect, cause I'm starving.”, Braham grumbled. The norn had barely spoken about anything but the lack of substance in both his mouth and belly, and Tivon gave a weak, weary chuckle.

“Come on.”, he soothed. “Just a bit longer, Braham.”

The norn grumbled in response, and Tivon thought he heard something about Frostbite stealing his food, but he couldn't be sure. They made their way back to the inn and slumped down into chairs, the table filling ever so slowly with dishes and cups.

Tivon himself wasn't hungry. He rarely ever was, and even less so when something occupied his mind, which, right now, was the desire to _sleep_. Rox too was quiet, which was a sign that the charr female was tired as well, her green, bright eyes half-closed, her claws only ever so slowly and languidly dragging food toward her mouth, and Braham fared no better.

Tivon yawned heartily and stretched out his arms, but it did little to alleviate any of the soreness of his body or his exhaustion. When he rested his arms folded in front of him on the table his head begun to feel heavy and he leaned it down against his own judgement and closed his eyes. Derry curled around his ankles, ferns soft and warm against his skin.

“Hey, come on.”, Braham protested and Tivon made a disgruntled noise; a sign he had heard, and didn't care. Braham sighed, his chair scratched over the floor and Tivon heard Braham's heavy boots on the wood. “I'm going, you coming, Rox?”

“Hm.”, she made and rose, a little less energetic. Tivon could feel her eyes rest on him for a moment longer before Braham said,

“He hates the room. Probably best to leave him here.”

Rox yawned and didn't even argue and both their steps disappeared up the stairs until everything was quiet. The waitress took away the plates and cups, careful not to stir Tivon awake, and ever so slowly he felt lighter and then, darkness took the edges of his awareness and pulled him into oblivion, and while his breathing softened into a gentle rhythm the sylvari appeared beside him, simply watching, gazing, a thoughtful expression on his face, yet none of the others inside the common room of the inn seemed to neither see nor notice him at all.

He lifted his hand into Tivon's hair, brushed through the ferns gently and carefully as not to rouse the ranger from sleep, and even though Tivon did not wake, he smiled at the touch and let out a content sigh. Tivon had come very close to death, quite a few times, now. The sylvari sighed and planted a soft kiss on the top of his head. _What are you doing_ , the sylvari thought, but despite everything he couldn't tear his eyes away and so he sat vigil while Tivon slept, keeping watch.

  


Tivon woke with a start when a massive hand landed on his shoulder and gave him a rude shake. His head snapped up and he blinked furiously against the sunlight, his eyes slowly fixing on Braham who was standing beside him, looking relatively well rested. “Time to wake up, Tiv.”, Braham chirped and Tivon yawned and stretched once more, nearly boxing into Braham's side.

“Don't...”, Tivon mumbled, voice dripping from his sleep, slightly slurred. “Don't do that, please.” Braham just laughed it off.

“You slept here?”, Rox asked when she approached from the stairs, Frostbite close on her heels.

“Yeah. I don't recommend it. Anything from Vorpp?”

“We'll have to go and see.”, Rox answered and knelt down to Frostbite to give him a small breakfast snack.

When Tivon rose to his feet Derry darted from under the table, trying to lap up Frostbite's snack, and the devourer made an aggressive chirp that had Derry retreating with his ears flat, tail wagging lowly and retreating back to Tivon's side. “Then let's go.”, Tivon said and the inn-keeper shot their company a curious look as they left.

“Ah, there you are.”, Vorpp said rather cheerfully. “I've managed to identify the signature of the portal and calibrate a similar pattern into the portal's frequency. This should lead you right down into the arena.”

“Can you open it for us?”, Rox asked and Vorpp nodded, his fingers flying over a small panel. A portal opened on a small, metallic platform, humming and vibrating to life before their eyes.

“There you go.”, Vorpp grinned.

“Thank you.”, Rox said. “You guys ready?”

“Let's hope we are not too late.”, Tivon murmured. “Hostages are taken to bargain for a certain end, but Scarlet hadn't made any demands yet.”

“We will get out who we can.”, Braham said, pulling his shield and mace free and holding them tightly. “I'm ready. Let's go.”

Tivon pulled his bow from his shoulders, his fingers curling around the familiar shape of the bow. He had used the weapon quite a lot lately, even thought against Scarlet's minions it was not very effective unless he hit _perfectly_. His sword on the other hand had proved quite effective, but the blade had gravely suffered from steel scratching and cutting metal over and over again. He would have to tend to the blade soon.

They went through and Tivon recognized the arena immediately. “Okay, now that we're on, our first order of business is to find and free the hostages. Caotain Thackeray is counting on us. Impress him and Rytlock takes notice.”

“Ah.”, Tivon made with a sheepish grin. “So _that's_ your angle.”

Rox rolled her eyes, and when she smiles she bared her fangs slightly. “Not like I didn't tell you. So, are you ready? Braham, Frostbite, Tivon?”

“You know I'm ready.”, Braham grinned. “I can't speak for Frostbite. Then again, neither can he, because he can't talk.”

“He talks. You just have to know him to listen. Right, boy?” Rox looked down at the devourer and it made a sound between a purr and a chirp, and Rox beamed. “See? Frostbite's ready. Let's show Scarlet what happens when you mess with our human pals.”

The area was stifling hot, the ground riddled and crossed by small rivers and parches of lava, steam rising off into the air. Jagged rocks rose into the air, dark and cold, giving the whole area just that unwelcoming look.

They fought their way through. Not through any beasts that were hidden behind mesmer magic, no. These were Scarlet's minions, watchknights – or whatever one called them now – green glows where their eyes were, sprockets and joints screeching with every movement, metal bending under the swing of Brahams mace.

The last was a construction that looked very much like a bee and made a most disturbing fluttering and sizzling noise while in the air, and Tivon was glad when it was finally silent after being struck from the sky and flung into a pond of lava.

“But I didn't made enough dinner for guests!”, they heard Scarlet's voice call from somewhere across the lave-bed. “Quick, someone toss another hostage into the pot.”

They exchanged a glance, but no word of urgency needed to be spoken. They jumped over the small rocks that made up the ground that was healthy to stand on, slowly making their way across, Tivon the fastest of the three, bow clutched tightly in his hand. He moved quickly, his feet jumping across with ease until he reached the other side, the stone warm, almost hot beneath the soles of his bare feet, Derry whining slightly.

Ahead was a large, spiky cauldron and there stood Scarlet in her attire, her eyes fixing on Tivon briefly before turning back to the figure that was _inside_ the cauldron. “You know what word I love? Fishkill. Which remind me: I need to get some fish in here.” When Braham and Rox joined beside Tivon, a smile quirked at her lips, but it was nothing sweet. It was wicked, crooked even. “Do come on. There's no room at the dinner table, but plenty of room in the cauldron.”

“Ah, hello? Anyone?”, the voice from inside the cauldron said, and Tivon recognized it. Partly. Lord F...foren? Fallen? “Fire! There's a fire. A noble lord's lifelong gratitude is just a rescue away.”

“You get Scarlet, I'll put out those fires.”, Tivon said and they moved, Braham and Rox aiming for the mad sylvari as Tivon made his way toward the cauldron, the heat rising the closer he got to the flames. Steam was rising ever so slowly and he didn't try and dare imagine just what kind of agony it would be liked to be cooked alive. Much to his surprise there was a fire-extinguisher close by, and even upon further inspection he found nothing wrong with it. Why would Scarlet even... Ugh. As if anyone could understand the madness behind _anything_ of this.

The flames yielded easily under the beam of cold that came from the extinguisher, the flames jittering, hissing and then dying away, leaving nothing but a thin trail of smoke.

“Quit that! Let is burn, or my Faren chowder will never come to a boil.”, Scarlet said teasingly, but Tivon ignored her, concentrating only on putting all the fires out. He heard the electrostatic discharging somewhere close by, could feel it prickling on his skin and Braham growled in frustration. When he finally put the last flame out Scarlet sighed. “Fine, take the hostages. I was done with them anyway. Stupid hostages.”

Tivon turned his head just in time to see her disappear in her usual static-magitech fashion and Braham's mace swung through her and struck thin air. The fury was etched on the norn's face and Tivon turned back around to help the human climb from the cauldron.

“Am I glad to see you! Help a nobleman out of a bad situation, will you? That sylvari with the fright wig is all kinds of crazy.”

“Are you hurt?”, Braham asked, sheathing his shield and mace.

“Not seriously. Not yet. Scarlet likes to play worth her toys, and let me tell you, she plays rough.”, the human said, and...why did that sound genuinely ambiguous? “The others are in pretty bad shape, I've been held captive before, but this is easily the scariest hospitality I've received.”

“Okay, we'll stay with you until we can get you all to safety. Anyone who can't walk, we'll carry.”, Rox offered, but her eyebrows were raised in question.

“And any of Scarlet's machine goons who come looking for poor, defenseless you will find us instead.”

“We can't just let her go.”, Tivon argued. “I know the hostages are our full priority, but she has done too much to simply get away with it. I am going after her.”

“She will expect someone to come after her.”, Rox said. “She's been planning this. We need to be careful.”

“I'll be.”, Tivon agreed and shouldered his bow, already marching forward. Braham studied him with a deep frown.

“We'll get the hostages out of here, then we'll join you. Don't get blown up while we're gone.”

Tivon nodded and made his way forward into the next staging arena, the area a rather stark contrast to the stifling, rocky desolation. It was a green plane with hills and trees, the air a little clearer, but despite a few of Scarlet's minions he could not see her.

He stalked through the grass, his feet moving ever so carefully when he heard her voice, static and crackled,

    _Tick tock goes the clock_
    _It's almost time for time to stop_
    _Something you all must understand_
    _Your world is built on fog and sand_

He turned his head, searching for a sign of where the voice was coming from, but he could not see the crazed sylvari anywhere. He gripped his bow tighter, knocking in an arrow, legs tense and slightly bent as he moved forward, as silent and nimble as possible.

    _You're out of time, your jig is done_
    _It's time for Scarlet to have her fun_
    _She has some hard lessons to teach_
    _To the people of Divinity's Reach_

Was there an end to her madness? Had she truly planned all of this, the chaos, the watchknights, taking them over, the Jubilee, the arena? How? And what was her connection the Aetherblades? _'Scarlet_ _gonna have my noggin for screwing up'_ , Mai Trin's voice echoed in his head and Tivon stilled where he stood. Was...was Scarlet behind the Aetherblade attacks? The attack on the Lion's Arch council members at the Dragon Bash?

    _So mark the date in permanent ink_
    _The hour is later than you think_
    _On the twentieth day she'll start her games_
    _And warm her hands over Kryta's flames!_

There was the sound of static again, sizzling and crashing from somewhere atop and Tivon could see Scarlet sitting there at the edge of the platform, legs dangling over the side, swinging like two pendulums, her grin so wide it bared teeth.

“Well, well, well. Someone's come to mess with my plans.”, she grinned, and now that he stood here, faced with Scarlet alone, the nervous prickle in his fibres came back full force and he felt Derry beside him crouch lower, ears flattening and teeth flashing in a low, warning growl. “Haven't you been paying attention?”, she asked.

“I think I've seen enough.”, Tivon said, his voice forcefully level, and her laughter crackled loudly.

“I do the messing with around here. I'm the mess-or, not the mess-ee. It's bad enough I didn't get the queen like I wanted, now you want to spoil all my fun? Party, meet pooper.”

Tivon's eyes scanned over the side, noticed the rock wall there, a slope leading up ahead. If he was quick...he could move up there and -

Scarlet rose to her feet, dusting off her skirts. “Still, this is something I didn't anticipate. Which makes it exciting. At least until I kill you. Let's dance.”

She shouldered a rocket launcher onto her shoulder and tilted her head, gave him a crooked smile before she turned and walked toward the middle platform, her hips swinging easily from side to side. Tivon ran toward the slope and ran upwards, finger pulling two arrows from his quiver into the string of his bow and when he finally reached the middle platfrom, that very center where everything had started, he saw Scarlet in the very middle of the cage-like fence, her eyes mustering him mirthfully.

He walked through the opened gate, bow raised, and noticed that she too had hers aimed at him. Vail was already up high in the air and Tivon only had to distract Scarlet enough for the Raven to strike, whereas Derry beside him growled louder now.

When she lifted her weapon Tivon didn't hesitate. His arrow aimed for her arm, but she moved faster than he would have given her credit for. She twirled to the side and gave him a pouting smile. “Let's play “Giant Club vs. Overripe Fruit.”, she chirped. “I'll be the club.” There was a short pause in which Tivon frowned, his bow raised with yet another arrow before she stared down at her weapon. “Huh. This isn't a club. Oh well.”

She raised her arm once more and Tivon shot again, but the arrow stuck into the ground behind her when she once again simply stepped aside. Her crackled laughter made a shiver run over his bark and then, finally, he saw Vail come from above.

The Raven dug its claws deep into the foliage atop her head, sinking deep into the fiery ponytails and she made a surprised, high, screeching noise, lifting one hand to slap into the air above her head, and Derry charged forward, so much faster than Tivon ever could.

He pulled another arrow from his quiver, pulled it into the string just as Derry jumped atop Scarlet's chest and brought her to stumble backwards and aimed it at her thigh – and this time he hit his mark. The arrow sunk deep into the bark there and she drew in a sharp breath, but other than that made no sound that showed that she was in pain and all of a sudden she growled and there was a pulse of electrostatic and both Vail and Derry jumped away, a lightning corona filling out Scarlet's form.

She straightened and shook her head with a sigh and then, to Tivon's astonishment and utter disbelief, she _tore_ the arrow from her thigh without so much as a whimper, the sap flowing freely from the jagged and barbed head. Without a look back she turned away and walked – she _walked,_ how, how was she even _walking?_ \- toward a pile of stacked boxes and climbed atop and then she turned around, her eyes looking down at him with an intense, mustering glare.

“Alas, you have defeated me! And thus I have learned the error of my ways.”, she said, placed a hand atop her chest where humans had their heart, and expression of solemnity on her face. “I shall be good and sweet and nice from now on.” And then she burst out a high-pitched, crackling, _maniacal_ laughter, “Just kidding! But you do have my full attention now. I don't think you'll enjoy it. I keep a list of people that need sharp reminders about how insignificant they really are. And you just jumped to the top of it.”

Just as she said that there were footsteps coming from the gate and Tivon saw Seraph guards and Countess Anise rushing through the gate, together with Braham and Rox in tow.

“It was a well-earned victory, and you should be proud. You should be happy. No, I mean it: you should be happy.”, there was a pause and her eyes were so i _ntense_ Tivon wondered what she meant, if there even was _meaning_ to her madness. “So be happy. Right now. Because shortly, very shortly, your life is going to be nothing but tears. See you soon!”

She took her rifle into her hands and aimed it at the boxes at her feet and before any of them could protest there was the bang of a shot and an explosion rippled through the air, sending them all back. Dust and dirt whirled up, leaving behind a cloud that veiled everything in a grey and muddy curtain and Tivon coughed, waved it away with a motion of his hand.

Where Scarlet had been was nothing more than a large scorch mark on the ground, and high above them the arena had opened once again, the sky showing above their heads.

Rox and Braham came toward him. “Figures a schemer like Scarlet would have an escape plan. Still, we put her to flight, and that's a win in my book.”, Rox shrugged, her neck craned up to where Scarlet had blasted herself off into the air.

“Wait, that lunatic is still on the loose? That's not good. Not for Divinity's Reach, or the queen, or...anyone, really.” Lord...Forren? Said. “Speaking of royalty...did the queen notice how brave I was right before I got captured? I'm looking for an upside here.”

“You're alive and intact, my lord.”, Braham dead-panned. “That's more of an upside than most of her victims got. Savor the little things.”

“Still, she doesn't strike me as the kind to forgive and forget. More like the kind to begrudge and bedevil.”

“True.”, Rox agreed. “But that just means we stay prepared for anything.”

“How do you prepare for wild-eyed, tooth-gnashing lunacy? By definition, it's unpredictable.”

“You, uh, stay on your toes.”, Tivon added in hope of finally earning some quiet. “I am sorry I couldn't stop her.”

“She planned everything this far. That she got away again should come as no surprise.”, Rox shrugged, but before they could continue the voice of Logan Thackeray carried over to them.

“A word, Countess? Ever since the planning of this event, I've been kept out of every important decision involving the queen. I know that's not a coincidence. With you it never is.” His voice was cold, calculated, and there was an unaddressed tension between the two.

“I assure you, Captain: everything I've done had been for the good of Kryta and the throne. Scarlet was a threat I couldn't fully identify, so I prepared for the worst. And my preparations proved very effective. The only problem here is that you take things too personally when Jennah's involved.” Her voice was cold as well, but the glare of her dark eyes was so much stronger than those of Logan's.

“I will never apologize for my dedication to the queen. I will serve and protect her faithfully until she commands me not to. Keep that in mind the next time you feel like trying to keep us apart.”

The threat underlying his tone did not go missed, and the tension seemed to rise, but Countess Anise did not deign to answer. She stared at him coolly, then lifted her chin and stalked off with the few Shining Blade she had brought with her trailing after her, and Logan stared until she had finally gone.

“That's some tension right there.”, Tivon murmured low enough for his friends to hear.

“Yeah, best not get between the crossfire.”, Rox said.

“Sooo...”, Braham made, and Tivon chuckled.

“Yes Braham.”, Tivon said and shouldered his bow. “We can go get some food now.”

“Awesome.”, Braham grinned, and the three of them finally left the arena behind.

 


	10. The Tower of Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Another goody. This one did not take quite so long as the one before and isn't quite so long either, and the team finally gets to meet most of its members! All that's missing is Taimi and she'll come next chapter, as well as a special someone I know I have been dying to bring back into this. ARGH I AM EXCITED OKAY?  
> That is all I have to say for now my friends...so enjoy while I write the next one :3

“So...you think Scarlet might be behind the Molten Alliance as well?”, Braham asked, shoving down some pork down his throat, while Tivon leaned back in his chair, a hand beneath the table giving Derry a strip of uncooked meat.

“Mai Trin, the Captain of the Aetherblade Pirates Kiel captured, mentioned Scarlet before. If she's behind the Alliance of Pirates and Inquest, then she could very well have coaxed the Flame Legion and Dredge together.”

“It does seem to be too much coincidence that enemies suddenly start to fraternize around us.”, Rox murmured. “And now we have to wait till we figure out what this lunatic has planned next.”

“Yeah. Feels like we're being cooked in that cauldron instead.”, Tivon sighed.

“Shame they closed the arena.”, Braham pouted.

“We'll find something for you to beat up, Braham.”, Tivon chuckled. “It's only been a day. We could go back to the Gendarran fields or Kessex Hills to help with Scarlet's invasions.”

“After the ceremony they stopped.”, Rox shrugged. “Not sure why, since that lunatic seemed to have a life-supply of machinery.”

“Means she's planning something once again.”, Tivon sighed and watched as Braham ate and the norn looked up after a few seconds, raising his eyebrows.

“If you want some, you'll have to-”

“No, no.”, Tivon quickly said. “I...never thanked you. For saving me back there.”

Braham shrugged his large shoulders. “Couldn't save everyone.”

Tivon knew what _that_ felt like. That feeling of incompetence, that you were never quite good enough. He sighed and tried to think of something to say, something to soothe Braham, but nothing adequate came to his mind. “You saved a few.”, Tivon finally brought out, but even to him the words sounded strangled.

Rox noticed the heavy atmosphere and Braham's eyes that stared into empty air, lost in thought, and decided to change the topic. “So, what do we do? Sit around all day?”

Before any of them could answer the door to the inn swung open and in the doorway stood no other than Logan Thackeray, his eyes glided through the room until they settled on them. He strode across, the others that sat on the wooden tables giving him a curious and wary glance as he passed by. Tivon and the others looked up in surprise.

“Captain.”, Rox greeted. “What can we do for you?”

Logan made no attempt to sit down or gestured that he wanted to join them. His shoulders seemed tense, but then again, Tivon doubted he had ever seen the man relax. “I've received word from Majory Delaqua.”, he said and Tivon's ear perked up and he finally met the Guardian's eyes. “She's requesting your help in Kessex Hills. There are some strange occurrences in the area, Nightmare Court and Krait working together in what they call the Toxic Alliance.”

“Another one of Scarlet's schemes, I imagine.”, Tivon murmured and Logan nodded.

“Possibly. Either way she requested your help there.”

“Someone you know?”, Braham asked, his sulk forgotten.

“Majory is a private investigator here in Divinity's Reach.”, Tivon explained. “If she asks for my help, I am sure it's urgent.” He gave Logan a look, could not quite fathom why the Captain of the Seraph would play owl to get the message here. “Thank you, Captain.”

“The whole of Kessex hills is currently too dangerous to simply wander. Whatever the Toxic Alliance has done, it has pestered the air to such an extent that it is nearly impossible to march through.”

“Sounds like you could use some help.”, Rox grinned. “We are at your disposal, Captain.”

“Appreciated. Head to Thunder Ridge in Kessex Hills. I am sure you can lend a hand there.” He turned once more to look at Tivon. “Sergeant Walters will be expecting you and lead you to Auld Red Wharf.”

“Well then.”, Tivon grinned. “Looks like we found something to smash for you, Braham.”

“About time.”, Braham grinned back.

  


Tivon had only ever fleetly been to Kessex hills. It was a land full of large, empty planes covered only in grass and dirt, and that in itself was of course nothing to be disliked, but the many human settlements that could be seen on the horizon had always given the impression of _too many_ humans, and now that the air was thick with a veil of green he could barely see a few meters ahead, lest at all the horizon.

It tasted vile and murky, his skin tingled at the contact, and Vail shifted nervously on his shoulder. Just what kind of substance was in the air? What had this Alliance experimented with now? He sighed and stared at his feet as he wandered over the ground, watched as the grass beneath his feet fell apart, brittle and dry.

Ahead he could see a group of Seraph and one of them approached him through the thick veil. “I have orders to see you to the ruins of Auld Red Wharf. Majory and Kasmeer went on ahead of us.”

“Kasmeer is here as well?”, Tivon said surprised. This was hardly a place for a noble lady such as Lady Kasmeer. He could hardly imagine her standing in this thick, sickening mist.

“Yes.”, the woman answered courtly and then coughed and waved Tivon's worried glance away. “They are waiting. Let's move.”

The Seraph guards escorting him looked wary and worn, and Tivon wondered if it was the influence of whatever it was that was drifting through the air. It could hardly be without consequence to breathe it in and out, right? Their coughs were evidence enough.

A group of Krait and Nightmare Court was up ahead, and Tivon managed to get his shot off on an unsuspecting Krait from the distance before they had been noticed. There was a familiar, green glow to the Krait's eyes, and a sickening, light green corona that surrounded the Nightmare Courtiers, sylvari that had at some point in time turned to the Nightmare.

After defeating them Sergeant Walters sheathed her sword with a frown, staring down at the bodies that lay before them. “What could the Nightmare Court and the krait possibly have in common? Their toxic new alliance is obviously the source of the strangeness happening here. What are they planning?” She looked thoughtful and Tivon had no answers, but she continued before he could even say a word. “Answers will have to wait. Form up on me and we'll cross this bridge and press forward.”

The bridge was the only way across, a strategic point for the Toxic Alliance, that much was for sure. He could see various krait and Nightmare Court slithering and hiding in the distance, waiting for those that were lead astray and shivered. Whatever had happened here, it had to be reversed. Perhaps Majory and Kasmeer had answers.

He didn't bother stowing his bow or arrows. He kept one in the string at all times, felt as if he was being watched. Through the thick veil toward where the lake was he could see a dark silhouette looming high high high into the sky, looming so far Tivon had to crane his neck. It looked like a tower of sorts, long, lithe spikes and vines circling and curling around it, swaying from a breeze Tivon couldn't feel, giving the tower a feeling of being _alive_.

Tivon stilled when he heard a cracking noise and turned his head, and Sergeant Walters was staring down at a pustule that was growing from the ground. It was brightly blue and spiked and rose into the air, a thin stem pushing and cracking the ground away.

For a second nothing happened and then it oozed a green substance and Tivon jumped back just in time, could taste the bitter tang just barely on his tongue, but Walters coughed and got the full force of it. “The...The Centaurs!”, she coughed when she looked up again, her eyes glazed and turned somewhere far, far away. “The Centaurs are upon us!”

The other Seraph were coughing terribly and slowly succumbing to their knees and Tivon could only stare, wide-eyed, when Walters turned toward him, eyes suddenly snapping and a fury settling in them that was directed at him, plain for him to see.

“Let's end this, quick.”, she said and gripped her sword more tightly as she marched toward him.

“Walters?”, he asked as she moved and took a step back. “Walters!” But she didn't hear and when she broke into a run, slashing her sword at him with a cry he raised his own sword just in time, the bow still clutched in his other hand. With a quick twirl he whirled aside and stowed it upon his back and then Walters was attacking him, again and again, sword descending down upon him, and even though she was _strong_ , he was even more so.

Derry growled, but Tivon ordered the hound and Vail to stand down. He feared that they would hurt her if they were not careful. That...that was not what he wanted.

When her sword clashed against his he turned his blade around hers, the metal screeching pitifully as it moved along it and the tips of his sword cut into Walters wrist, blood dripping free and the sword dropped with a clatter to the ground as she cried out.

She took a step back, dazed, and stared at her blood and blinked. “I...”, she murmured and then looked at Tivon. “What's going on?” When Tivon didn't answer she looked suddenly stricken, her breath coming in harsh, labored pants. “Wait, you're no centaur. Oh gods, forgive me.” She turned her eyes away, ashamed by what she had done. “I wasn't in my right mind.”

“It's...quite alright.”, Tivon murmured, the sword still clutched in his hand. It was the influence of the toxin, he knew.

“Forget about me.”, she said bitterly and shook her head. “Just get to Majory and Kasmeer. Protect them. I'll take care of my men.”

Tivon nodded and gave one last glance back before he followed the bridge and down the road, the memory heavy in his mind. So was that what the Toxic Alliance did? Play with people's minds? And was he immune due to him being sylvari? Perhaps the Nightmare Court had intended for it to be that way, that way their members could easily walk and wade through this mist of toxins without danger of being compromised.

He could see Majory and Kasmeer ahead, and despite everything he smiled as he approached them. “Majory, Kasmeer.”, he greeted and the both were already smiling at him, having seen him come down the path. Majory was wearing the same dark robe, hair tied back with a hairpin. Kasmeer wore the very same brilliant dress that looked entirely out of place.

“Tivon.”, Majory greeted. “Glad you could make it. How was the journey?”

“Eventful.”, Tivon shrugged. “I got a first row view of what the Toxic Alliance is capable of. But what are you doing here?”

“We were investigating the Toxic Alliance.”, Kasmeer said. “Well, still are.”

“We'll soon head back to the camp.”, Majory shrugged. “We can pass on what we've learned about the tower, then rest.”

“Rest? I hardly think we'll get any-”

There was the sound of a blink and Kasmeer suddenly disappeared in a flash of purple, appearing a few paces behind where she had stood and Tivon grabbed his sword when he noticed a Krait digging up toward them from under the earth, the green glow around its eyes traveling down in integrate lines over its spine.

“Here we go.”, Majory murmured and pulled an axe from her belt and lifted it even though she was out of range. The krait slithered closer and Tivon used his sword to cut along its long, lithe body and it gave a long, wailing screech, but before it could raise its two arms something _cool_ and freezing washed over Tivon's shoulder, and he noticed that a shard of shadow struck into the creatures skin.

A shiver went over his spine and he ducked when the creature flung one of its arms in his direction and nimbly jumped as its tail came to curl around his legs and his feet tapped almost softly when he landed and when he lifted his eyes again, sword angled slightly behind him to pull it forward for a more powerful strike, three Kasmeer's (he'd try to wrap his head around that another time) walked up toward the creature and _shattered_ with a loud clattering noise.

The krait stood dazed, swaying slightly and Tivon used the distraction to lift the sword and cut diagonally through the creatures chest up to its neck, severing its head from its body in the process. Green fluid spurted free, coating his blade and the ground and the krait's body fell into a lump on the floor.

When he slowly let the sword drop back to his side he glanced at Kasmeer and saw her sheathe a wooden staff onto a holster on her back, the purple magic surrounding it and weaving at it's top fading into the air and disappearing, leaving behind no trace at all. Majory sheathed her axe as well, and Tivon found himself surprised still that the both of them were such formidable fighters. He hadn't had a clue.

“As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Kasmeer continued and straightened out her perfectly untainted dress with a motion of her pale hand, “with that tower looming over us, our odds of finding rest are slim to none.”

“I wish you'd go back to Divinity's Reach.”, Majory murmured, brows furrowed in thought and...was that worry?

“Even slimmer odds of that.”, Kasmeer quickly pointed out with a tilt of her head. “Perhaps we should bring Tivon up to speed on what's happening?”

“Yes, please?”, Tivon said and Kasmeer gave him a warm, beautiful smile and Majory laughed.

“Alright, alright. That tower was veiled with illusion magic until just a short while ago.”, Majory started.

“I found the perfect spell. It was luck, really.”, Kasmeer grinned.

“It was fantastic.”, Majory said and gave Kasmeer a loving glance. “The sky darkened and-”,

Kasmeer quickly chirped in, “I could sense the magical framework. A mesmer had formed the illusion.”

“She just closed her eyes and raised her hands toward it. Magic crackled from her fingertips.”

Kasmeer shook her head with a smile. “I found a crack in its cloak. A magical poke in the right place, and it dropped like...”

“Like a norn fart at a moot.”

Tivon blinked at Majory in disbelief, and the necromancers' face was completely level and nonchalant, whereas Kasmeer snorted with laughter. “Jory!”, she said playfully and only then did Majory smile and Kasmeer continued, “So, when the veil came down, there it was. The tower.”

“And the krait. And the Nightmare Court.”, Majory grumbled.

“They weren't happy. Still aren't.”

“We need to deal with this tower; the question is how. It looks impregnable.” Majory's gaze drifted toward the large construction, clearly searching for a way in.

“Appearances are everything, Jory. If it looks like a fortress, it undoubtedly guards something precious.”, Kasmeer reasoned.

“I'd welcome the chance to look inside it, but the base is thick with toxic spore clouds.”

“Maybe we need a strong perfume like I spray on a hankie when around...aromatic warriors.”

“Exactly.”, Majory smiled a crooked smile. “I know poisons. I'm sure I could formulate an antitoxin if I had samples of the spores.”

“Well, I know plants.”, Tivon chirped in, glad to finally be less than a third wheel to this conversation. “I can get you what you need.”

Majory's smile widened. “Always what we need, Tivon. It really is good to see you.”

“I was told you need protecting.”, Tivon laughed. “Someone must have been gravely misinformed.”

“We can handle our own.”, Majory shrugged and gave Kasmeer a glance.

“I am not all smiles.”, Kasmeer grinned.

“I could see that.”, Tivon gestured toward where they had left the krait curled on the ground. “That...I had not expected that from you, Lady Kasmeer.”

She blushed at that and looked shy, but she didn't avert her eyes. “Barely mention-worthy.”, she smiled. “Will you really be alright on your own?”

“I have seen some spores while I was travelling here.”, he shrugged. “I'll look into it. I'll see you at the camp once I've collected some. I'm sure you'd like the chance to rest.”

“Yes, rest.”, Majory immediately picked up and gestured for Kasmeer to follow her. “Come on, let's not keep Tivon any longer. And be careful. There are krait and Nightmare Court all around – and I don't have to warn you about the latter.”

Tivon nodded and saw them walk off, Kasmeer waving back at him over her shoulder and then they were gone. He did not mind being left alone to do this. It meant less distractions and that he could take a closer look around what had happened to the environment, and what exactly it was that was causing the deterioration.

The ground was dry and hard, parched as if it had not rained in months. The grass was brittle and broke at the slightest touch and the air tasted bitter the closer to the nightmare tower he got. He craned his neck, staring up toward that strange, greatly overgrown pustule that rested at the very top, dark pollen falling from it from time to time, the vines and thorns curling around the lower base created from metal slaps that were placed atop one another in a ring.

What did the Nightmare Court gain from this? He knew little enough about them, only that they wanted nothing to do with the Dream or Ventari's tablet, that they wanted to search for a road of individuality.

He slowly made his way around the tower that stood at the shore, metal around its base clinging close and rusted. There was no way inside, not that Tivon could see, and he searched instead for a piece of pollen, perhaps even a part of the pustule. It was possible that it had scattered to a wind.

He saw a small blue pustule growing from the ground and knelt down beside it, inspecting it carefully. Derry wandered off, paws splashing in the water and disappearing behind some wreckage and Tivon lifted his gaze, and whirled around when he noticed a figure from the corner of his eyes.

For a second he thought perhaps the sylvari had decided to appear again, but instead he was faced with a group of nightmare court, and at the front stood a sylvari woman, her shining blue eyes and midnight colored skin as well as the dark twigs curling around her face giving her exactly the look of a nightmare courtier.

“Sylvari.”, she said curiously and titled her head, her two hands curling around the staff that was about the same height as she, the wood of the staff looking like it had been carved from a dark oak, and crumbled and wilting leaves curled around it at the top.

He slowly erected himself to full height, arms and shoulders tensing. The Nightmare Courtiers behind her looked just as apprehensive, their eyes glaring down at him, and he considered the distance that still kept them apart. He could attempt to run, surely he was faster, but he did not know the area well enough to navigate it without running into other toxic alliance members.

Could he take them all on, though? He wasn't sure. Another female stepped forward, a whip made from a vine in her hand, and she squinted her eyes at him menacingly and then turned her head toward the other female. “Do you have it with you?”

“Yes.”, the female answered with a curt nod, her eyes never leaving Tivon. Why was she staring at him like that?

The female sylvari turned back to Tivon, grinning and baring teeth. “Perfect.” She pulled her hand back and without warning let the whip snap forward and Tivon leaned aside with calculated efficiency, the whip snapping and hitting thin air a few inches in front of his nose. The sylvari growled when she pulled her whip back and the others rose to action.

Vail rose from Tivon's shoulder into the air and started clawing at the nearest Nightmare Court warrior that approached and Tivon deflected a blade aimed for his arm, shoved the blade aside with a thrust and gripped the Nightmare Courtiers tunic, placed a his foots behind the sylvari's legs and shoved him over.

The sylvari fell down into a puddle with a surprised cry, but Tivon was already lifting his sword to block a greatsword coming with a swing from atop and needed his second hand to push against it. He grit his teeth and pushed upward when he heard the whip once again and saw Derry darting out from somewhere to the side, a clump of leaves in his jaw, and jumping against the sylvari in front of him, fangs bearing down into the sylvari's arm with a growl.

The male cried out in pain and Tivon huffed, grateful that the weight finally had eased and turned around, ducked away when the whip came slashing through the air just above his head. The woman made a frustrated noise like a hiss and slapped the whip forward straight at him and Tivon felt the sting of it on his cheek as he leaned back and made a surprised noise and lifted a hand to cup the sting, sap flowing over his fingers.

“Succumb!”, the other female screeched and jumped him, the staff in her hand descending down upon him and when he blocked it with his sword an electric current flowed from the blade into his fingers and he made a startled and surprised noise, the sword dropped from nerveless fingers and his legs suddenly gave out as his body convulsed. He caught the fall of his body with his arms and took a shaking breath, trying to wrap his mind around what had happened when the whip slapped across his neck and curled itself tightly, pulling his body up.

He was on his knees and raised his hands to his throat, trying to pry the whip off from his neck, but a hand in his foliage tearing at the leaves on his head made him cry out and nearly brought tears streaming from his eyes which he furiously blinked away. The sylvari with the staff held his head and he searched with his fingers for the hilt of his sword, grasped it and slashed his sword in her direction and she made a surprised noise when the sword actually cut deep into her abdomen and tore sap free that splattered onto the ground.

Her hand loosened, but the whip curled even tighter when the other female screeched loudly behind him and pulled the whip back. Tivon felt the tightness on his throat and made a surprised noise, caught his balance and threw his free arm behind him, circled his arm around the tense line of the whip and _pulled_.

The sylvari woman stumbled forward and Tivon turned around, lifting onto one knee and felt the resistance of a body under his blade for barely a moment, then he saw her body still and her face full of disbelief and surprise before she fell to her knees and down toward the ground, the whip falling from her fingers and Tivon wasted no time to pry it from his throat, gasping and chocking for air.

The sap oozed from beneath her body into the ground, golden and tough, but he felt no pity at all. He slumped down onto his butt and heaved a few heavy breaths, the drags of air he got left something to be desired with the corruption permeating it heavily.

Derry was tearing at bark, his fangs scraping down at the sylvari he had attacked and Tivon sighed. “Derry, to me.”, he murmured, voice and throat still feeling raw. The hound obliged and came toward him, pressed his beautiful large head against Tivon's shoulder in consolation and he returned the favor by caressing the sylvari's leaf-pelt. Vail too was still pecking at another sylvari's face and followed suit, coming to land on Tivon's shoulder with a crow. “Well done you two. Well done.”

He let his eyes wander briefly over the place before he decided that leaving was a much better alternative than to wait and be ambushed once again. This attack had proven only the one thing: that it was patrolled, and that Tivon did not want to be here when someone came looking for Nightmare Court members. He rose to his feet, stumbling slightly, the imprint of the whip still tightly painted against the bare line of his throat.

There was a part of him slightly chagrined at the fact that he had not dealt with the Nightmare Courtiers in a much more graceful manner. The fact that it had been a rather close thing annoyed him, because he believed he was a much better fighter than to let his guard down quite like this. He shouldn't have...

He sighed. He shouldn't have expected to see the sylvari instead. It had been that which had him lower his guard more than he should, and it had been that which had kept him from immediately raising his weapon. That was certainly a mistake he should never repeat again.

Along his way he collected as many spore samples as he could get his hands on, evaded any of the remaining patrols with Vail's help and returned to camp where he approached Majory and Kasmeer at their tent. Now that he had gained some distance between himself and the tower the spores and the toxins in the air were not quite so thick and more sunlight filtered through, and he could see the wear on both the women's faces now clearer than before.

He took a deep breath before he approached them, the tightness around his throat not quite the sharp reminder any longer, but he felt the phantom of the whip curling around his skin still.

“Back already?”, Majory asked surprised and Tivon dropped a small pouch into her hand.

Tivon just shrugged, feeling the Karka on his shoulder pinch him just a little tighter at the motion. “Is it enough?”

“More than enough.”, Majory grinned. “I'll get to work.”

“Anything I can help you with?”, Tivon asked and Majory gave him a short, cool glance and then she shook her head, a strand of her dark, silky hair framing her face.

“No. I'm afraid not.”

“You can tell me about Scarlet.”, Kasmeer offered and gestured toward a small bench not far away. “You were in Divinity's Reach when she attacked, weren't you?”

Tivon sat down, Derry curling down at his feet and Vail taking off into the sky, circling and swirling, barely a distant peck of white. Kasmeer sat down beside him and gave the hound a curious glance before she lifted her eyes when he began to speak.

He told her of the Opening and Ending Ceremony, about what had occurred and what kind of madness was driving Scarlet, or rather, that they were all left to guess at straws. “Nobody can say what she's after. It's all a bit elaborate to be simply chaos, though.”

“It seems likely that she is behind the toxic alliance as well.”, Kasmeer nodded thoughtfully. “That mesmer illusion around the Tower of Nightmares...”, she glanced down at Derry again and then shook her head, more to herself, a blonde strand of hair falling over her fragile, smooth shoulders. “Not everyone can cast a powerful spell like that.”

“Scarlet may be many things, but she wasn't a mesmer.”, Tivon murmured, thoughts drifting back to the times he had seen and met her. There had been no indication that the crazy sylvari had any affinity for magic at all, be it elemental or illusionary or even dark. “Or...at least I didn't sense anything.”

Kasmeer blinked at him in surprise. “You can sense magic?”

Tivon desperately fought the color that rose into his cheeks and stuttered, “Ah, well, sometimes.”, he said and noticed how carefully Kasmeer was studying him.

“What about right now?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Can you sense any magic right now?”, she asked and her expression was level, nonchalant even. Tivon stared at the ground, not really seeing, and tried to determine if he _could_ , but he sensed nothing.

“No, not really.”, he finally admitted and Kasmeer slowly nodded, leaned back and relaxed.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”, she smiled. “I was just curious. I had thought you had no affinity for it.”

Had she asked him before Tivon had been to the Zephyrites with the sylvari, he might have told her that he had never felt magic before and that he most likely never would, but now that he knew what it felt like, what it was like to have it charge and sizzle through the fibres of his being, to warm him up from the inside and to strengthen him, he doubted he could ever claim to be untouched by it.

Tivon's fingers curled around the necklace, lost in thought, and Kasmeer followed the motion with her eyes and smiled. “That's a beautiful necklace.”, she mentioned and Tivon felt his fingers growing warm over the soft petals. He had not dared to pull one free yet, no matter how many times temptation had struck him.

“It was a gift.”, Tivon said and couldn't meet her eyes, not when she gave him such a sweet and knowing smile.

“You have a special someone, then?”, she teased and Tivon laughed shyly.

“What about you, my lady?”, he teased back.

Kasmeer's eyes wandered idly and fixed on nothing in particular, staring holes into the air, lost in thought. “Well...maybe.”, she blushed. “We will see.” There was a short pause in which he mustered him curiously, and he knew that gaze very well.

“I'll answer any question you may have, if I can.”, Tivon assured her with a smile and stroked Derry's head idly.

“I have heard of sylvari having a...calling.”, she began and looked a little uncomfortable, as if she did not quite know how to phrase her question. “Do you...?”

“We call them Wyld Hunts.”, Tivon explained kindly. “They are the purpose of our lives. Mine is...ambiguous, at best, but not every sylvari has one.”

“Is it a personal thing to ask?”

“For some, maybe.”, Tivon murmured, thinking about it. “It is after all everything that we attempt to strive for. Our life is filled with the thought of its completion.”

“It must be nice, knowing what you were born to do.”, Kasmeer sighed, and there was a melancholy laced into her words Tivon couldn't quite place.

“Sometimes the freedom to shape ones own destiny is its own kind of curse...and blessing.”, he said and was met by her brilliant, pale eyes, could see that her thoughts were churning. What kind of fear and terror she was wrestling with, he could never begin to fathom. Many of them, no, all of them had a mark, a scar, something that cut deep...

It was only kind that so far, Tivon had been spared. Mostly. He had seen the death of pious warriors, vigilant and stout, fighting for a cause and what was right. Dying so that the world might be a better place.

She gave him a watery smile. “Thank you Tivon.”, she murmured, voice low as a whisper. He couldn't remember what he'd done, and he thought that all that he had said had somehow resonated with her, that along the line, he had found a frequency that her thoughts had aligned to. “You know,” she said, voice a little stronger when she inhaled and straightened, “This special someone of yours is lucky.”

“Um.”, was all Tivon could bring out, startled by the sudden change of conversation, and he could feel the warmth spread up to his ears. His flustered expression made Kasmeer chuckle and she pulled the strand of golden hair back behind her ear. “I...thank you?”, Tivon finally brought out and Kasmeer laughed.

“By the God's, I am just babbling again. Forgive me.”, her smile was sparkling and Tivon found there was nothing to forgive at all. “I'll go check on Jory.”

She rose and straightened the slightly creasy parts of her dress and gave him one last smile before she wandered off, a noble lady in a brilliant white-golden dress that looked every bit as divine as a goddess. Tivon smiled after her with a shake of his head and scratched Derry beneath his chin, murmuring to himself,

“We keep some odd company.”

Derry didn't deign no answer. Not when he was getting scratched so _exquisitely_ and Tivon could almost hear that thought pass through to his mind, telegraphed by their bond and he chuckled, lowering his other hand as well, doubling his efforts.

It would take some time for Majory to make the anti-toxin, Tivon knew, which meant he could either take a stroll around the camp – or try to do a little exploring on his own. Considering how close the Nightmare Court had come once he wondered if they would be any less prepared to face him, or anyone for that matter. He was no easy target, he knew, but he should not try to invite trouble.

So instead, after having given Derry the longest and loveliest rub, he slowly straightened and moved his hand toward the small Karka on his shoulder and scratched it on the head, earning himself a surprised and questioning chirp. The Karka gave him a curious look when he lifted it from his shoulders and it clung on, but slowly relented and skittered in Tivon's lap, its legs with its sharp and piercing ends plucking into the leaves that circled around Tivon's thigh.

Tivon inspected its shell carefully, lifting it in the air and turning it gently and chuckled when it made a noise of protest at being rotated like a piece of meat over the fire. “Sorry, sorry.”, Tivon grinned and placed it down once more where it skittered closer to his abdomen and curled against his belly, its legs shutting and concealing any vision on its head. Vail came to rest on his shoulder, slowly edging closer until the raven's head rested against the side of Tivon's head, and there was nothing in the world Tivon would trade for this kind of feeling; to have his companions so close to him, curled and tugged close to his side in comfort and warmth.

He leaned his head against the raven's and tilted his head slightly, a sign that he too enjoyed the raven's company and he felt the content stirring of the bond, like a wave slowly ebbing through his body and soul, resonating deep within him, making him feel...whole. Complete.

The time passed by, but Tivon didn't mind. He had his eyes closed, was listening almost idly to the conversations that were far away, faded, distant, and he only ever caught faint words. His thoughts were drifting, carried away by an idle wind of inactivity until he felt an actual breeze over his skin and the necklace gave a slight shiver and moved over his bark gently before coming to a halt. He lifted his hand, fingers caressing over the petal and he gulped.

He wanted to pull one petal away. He really, really wanted to, but knew he shouldn't. That the sylvari wouldn't come into the camp like this, even if Tivon called upon him, and there was no reason to actually summon him, was there? Just...selfish desire.

He lifted his feet carefully from the ground and laid down on his back, Vail jumping from his shoulder onto the back of the bench, dark, round eyes mustering him with a curious tilt of the raven's white head. The Karka's shell felt cool and uneven against his skin as it rested against his abdomen and Tivon folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

If Scarlet was behind this there had to be a reason she was aiming to poison this area. And there had to be a reason for the Nightmare Court and the Krait to work together to achieve that...what did they possibly gain? What had the Molten Alliance gained?

Perhaps Kasmeer was right. The tower had been built large and thick, and there was no reason to fortify anything unless something was inside that was worthy of being hidden and protected. Once Majory had figured out the anti-toxin they could find out how to enter the tower and find out what it is. Perhaps it was just that. A strange, elaborate machine to spread poison. Mind-bending, health-reducing poison.

Tivon waited for another few seconds before he sighed. He had thought...no, he was being a bashful, hopeful idiot, that's what he was. He had thought the sylvari might show himself, that he might get to see him, but the area was too dangerous, and Tivon was both glad and disappointed at the same time.

Glad that the sylvari stayed away from the danger. Disappointed that he didn't get to see him. _Focus_ , Tivon told himself and took another deep, steadying breath before he managed to clear his head, his body slowly beginning to relax and his mind slipping, further and further, until he was fast asleep.

  


It was the next morning when Kasmeer pulled the flap of the tent aside and stretched, the morning air cool on her skin, the scent and lingering humility of the toxins lingering in the air still. Her eyes wandered briefly and she was not surprised to see Tivon sleeping where she had so abruptly left him yesterday on the small wooden bench, the fern hound curled below Tivon in a small round maelstrom of pale and bright leaves.

She approached carefully, but even then the fern hound looked up at her, ears going straight, and the dark eyes mustered her curiously. Cautiously. She could not really explain it, but whenever that fern hound watched her it felt...it felt like a pair of real eyes. Nothing like she was used to from other dogs.

She crouched down beside him, mindful of her dress as she did and reached out toward him, her pale, long fingers just inches away, but she halted them mid-air. It was...that feeling again. That strange, cool and unsettling feeling that disquieted her greatly. She couldn't place it.

The hound just watched her. Carefully. Steadily. Without any sound or movement. Under those dark eyes she felt trapped and she shook her head, as if the motion could chase that anxious feeling away and rose to her feet once more and gave Tivon a gentle shake.

The ranger blinked up at her with beautiful, pale-green eyes and sat up almost immediately. “Ah, Kasmeer.”, he murmured sleepily and blinked at her through his drowsy haze that was lifting from him faster than she had ever seen on anyone else. He looked awake within a matter of seconds. “Is the anti-toxin ready?”

Kasmeer nodded. “Yes.”, she replied, and knew how very quiet her voice was. She felt tired despite the fact that she had slept, at least a little. At some point in the night she had not been able to hold herself back any longer and Majory had continued to work through the whole night, and a pang of shame and guilt filled Kasmeer's chest. She had wanted to be there for her. Even if it would have done very little good. “She wants to investigate the tower as soon as you're up.”

“Consider me ready.”, Tivon smiled up at her and Kasmeer's eyes wandered down toward the fern hound again, wondering... “Is something the matter?”, Tivon asked and Kasmeer quickly smiled and shook her head.

“No, not at all. Let's get going, shall we?”

  


“The Orders are working together to unravel this mystery.”, Majory was saying as they made their way down toward the lake. The tower was built into the water, its round construction offering no sight of any entrance at all. Just metal stacked upon metal, slapped and rounded upon one another and built high into the air until its shadow loomed over them.

Krait slithered along the base of the tower, offering even smaller chances to access the tower. It would certainly involve getting rid of some first before they could find an entrance to the damned thing...and the closer they got the thicker the toxins seemed to get. So much so in fact that even Tivon began to feel a little light headed and spooked that sometimes, when he lifted his eyes to look at the pollen drifting from so far high up he saw dark ravens fluttering toward him instead, and he heard voices...screams...but they were faint and distant and easily shoved into the back of his head.

It was only after cutting through a group of Krait that the priory set up a strange device and started opening a way inside, a portal of sorts that would grant them access. Vigil members were waiting, ready to storm the place with them, and Tivon only briefly wondered if the three orders working together meant that the Pact was involved. Probably not. The Pact had been established to fight Elder Dragons...not crazed sylvari that moved around the place bringing havoc wherever they went.

“Alright, it's stable.”, the norn priory woman said and lifted herself to her feet, the apprehension clear in the tenseness of her shoulders. “We have no idea what to expect inside. Be careful.”

The Vigil went ahead and then Tivon, Majory and Kasmeer followed, and whatever Tivon had expected...this was even beyond what he had thought it would look like. It was dark, small turbid puddles covering the floor, the toxic air around them even thicker and heavier. The walls rose high around them creating a pitch shadow inside that unnerved Tivon more than he liked to admit, the sole light coming from luminescent plants that gleamed green and moss-colored in the near darkness.

The air was stifling and tasted sick, and the very creatures that lived here, mostly the Krait, looked little like they should. Their skin was covered in the luminescent glow as though they had made it their own, eyes gleaming dangerously in the darkness, weapons coated and dripping with the very same poison that lingered in the air.

“Spread out!”, the vigil ordered and Tivon watched as the armored vigil members did as they were ordered, cutting the base ground free and splattering it with Krait blood. Tivon pulled his bow from his shoulder and shuddered when he noticed that the screams had gotten louder... or was that just his imagination?

“Time to go.”, Majory murmured and nodded up high above their heads. “We need to get to the bottom of this- or top, as the case may be. You ready?” Sticky and wet wooden planks lead upwards in a circle, twisting and turning and loosing themselves in the darkness above their heads, and Tivon could see eye gleaming at them from the darkness, could hear the hisses and curses of the Krait even over the fighting sounds.

Kasmeer hiccuped with a high noise, nearly startling Tivon from his leafy armor. “As I'll ever be.”, Kasmeer answered, voice quiet and low.

He followed Majory warily, eyes travelling over the various pustules that grew scattered over the ground, a striking blue among all this slime-green and darkness. Some of them pulsed dangerously, looking ready to burst open at even the slightest contact, and Tivon tore his eyes away.

They cut their path through the krait quietly, barely wasting time on conversation. Majory looked tired, no, not just tired. Completely _exhausted_ , and Tivon worried for her. She looked determined to see this through, but...the swing of her axe simply wasn't the same, and the snark of her voice was not either.

Higher and higher they circled until Tivon could no longer see the ground below, the height almost sickening. The air was a stench now, and the lack of any enemies here was disquieting. The screams were most definitely louder now and he shrunk back when a black raven fluttered right through his chest and he choked on a breath, body tingling with a nervous thrum. He heard Kasmeer beside him humming a song out of tune, the fear blasting her eyes wide, her pale fingers clutching her staff so tightly the bones beneath her knuckles showed.

“This is the only way through.”, Majory murmured and nodded ahead toward a large pustule that was cut open and inside...well, Tivon could see there were winded passages inside, but they looked little like they had been made by anyone. Sylvari, perhaps. The ground, the walls, everything was filled with plant-like structures that clung to the walls, vines and thorns that juttered from the conjunction of the wall and ground. pustules grew all over the place, mushroom gleaming in the near darkness.

Before they could get any closer Majory suddenly started to yell. “Kasmeer? KASMEER!”

Tivon whirled around in search for a sign of danger, _anything_ at all, but there was nothing _there._ Majory was panting heavily and took a step back, a hand rising toward her head and Tivon was with her in in an instant, while Kasmeer was only staring at them with wide, fearful eyes.

“Have you...?”, Majory asked and Tivon placed a soothing hand on her shoulder and noticed that she was trembling.

“You're hallucinating.”, Tivon said, voice clear, but he too could feel the pull of it. He heard the screams, the voices... He pushed it all aside. “Kasmeer is right here. Come on.”

“Daddy said to wait.”, Kasmeer said, her eyes wide and unfocussed. “I have to stay here.”

By the Pale Tree, what was happening? Was it the proximity? It was hard for him to think straight and was glad when finally Majory regained her senses. “No.”, Majory said and gulped. “No Kas, we have to go.”

“But...”

“Your dad is not here.”, Majory insisted. “Come on. We need to end this.”

Tivon nodded toward her and with a gesture of her hand Majory offered for him to take the lead and he squeezed through a small crevice, the air inside even more stifling and heavy than before. He gulped and heard Derry whine low in his throat, but he didn't dare lift his eyes from the environment. The many black ravens circled over his head, watching, waiting...he shook his head. No, they weren't real. _Focus_.

A pustule near his head was giving off some light in this madness and he stepped forward, he heard Scarlet's voice. “Lucky you.”, she said and before him dropped Aetherblade's toward the ground, covered in dark, moving shadows and he gasped. “I made the Aetherblades just for you.”

Tivon closed his eyes and shook his head. _Not real_ , he told himself. _Not real. They are not real._

His own breath came fast and labored and when he finally dared to open his eyes again, there was nothing there and he gulped. “I don't like this. What's happening?”, Majory demanded.

“Don't worry, it's not real.”, Kasmeer said quickly. “It's the pollen playing with our minds.”

“OK, but...why are we seeing Aetherblades?”

Kasmeer took a shacky breath. “Scarlet's signature is all over this. She must be exerting some influence once our defenses are weakened by the toxins.”

There was not much left to argue with there and Tivon nodded toward a small passage lit only by pustules that gave same light. “Through there.”, he murmured, the weight of the toxin weighing heavy on his mind. If only it did not feel quite so...lulling.

They squeezed through and Tivon could her Scarlet's voice once again. “Molten Alliance? no. Molten _brilliance_.” Flame Legion and Dredge, silhouettes painted with dark shadows and Tivon shook his head.

“Not real.”, he murmured. “Not real not real not real.” He forced it upon his mind, like a mantra, even though it became harder and harder to do so, but it worked once again. With a heavy, labored breath he continued onward and stared down into a large, round room filled with plants, pustules and _cages._

Small puddles on the floor glittered with dark substance, one Tivon didn't even want to bother to identify. All that he wanted was...right. What was he doing here again?

There was a sound of a whip slashing against skin, a loud, wailing cry and everything inside Tivon froze. His eyes fixed on the nightmare courtiers in the middle of the room, circled around a figure, a brilliant, dark and white figure that Tivon recognized, and he moved forward and felt Majory tug at his arm.

“Tivon!”, she urged and held onto him, but his eyes were _fixed_ , focussed, completely and entirely on that which he saw. Before him loomed a fall of a few feet, nothing that Majory should have to hold him back for and he ripped his arm free without looking at her and jumped down, his naked feet landing in a puddle of ….whatever it was.

The nightmare courtiers turned toward him, dark eyes squinting at him, bodies covered in moving shadows that seemed to grasp into the air with long, lithe fingers and dark, sharp claws. In their middle, hunched and on his knees Tivon could see the sylvari, wounded, tattered, _broken._

He didn't recognize the sound tearing from his throat, the cry of pure and utter wrath and agony, and he pulled the bow so taunt the wood creaked. He shot the nightmare courtiers before they could move, and he felled four of them before he threw the bow aside and grabbed for his sword, blocking a swing that came his way. With a growl that trembled from his chest he pushed against the blade, fury making him wild, and his hand shot out to grasp around the nightmare courtiers throat and squeezed tight tight tight until the sylvari chocked, the eyes rolled back in his head and he fell toward the ground.

The slash of metal cutting through the air had Tivon duck away and circle beneath, turning and whirling around, his blade cutting through the torso of yet another nightmare courtier and he panted heavily, mind hazy and dizzy, slowly pirouetting and turning toward where the sylvari crouched on the ground, hurt, tortured, _in pain_ , and he had not been there, once again he hadn't done _anything_ -

With a last frustrated cry he stormed toward a female nightmare courtier that glared at him and raised her whip, but he charged the blade right through her middle before she even had a chance to lift her weapon. He pushed his sword hilt deep, so much so that he could hear her choke and tore the blade free, throwing her body to the side with his free hand and then he let his sword drop to the ground where it clattered deafeningly loud onto the floor and knelt next to the sylvari, grasped his cheeks and lifted his chin.

“Are you...”, Tivon chocked. “Oh, by the Pale Mother, no...what have they done?”, he asked when those beautiful, magnificent, breathtaking eyes stared at him hazily and blankly as if he _wasn't_ there. They looked through him, not comprehending, not understanding... As if everything inside had vanished. Gone. Gone. _Gone_.

“Tivon.”, a voice behind him said and he turned his head, his eyes filled with tears and he recognized Majory through the blur, recognized Kasmeer rushing toward him. “Tivon, it's not real. Whatever you are seeing...it's not real.”

Tivon opened his mouth and a chocked sob broke free and when he turned his head, his hands held _air_. He stared, utterly dumbfounded, he swore he had felt the warmth of those cheeks beneath his palm, he had...

 _By the Pale Tree_ , he had hallucinated. All of it. His hands, his arms, no, his whole body was shaking and he rose to his feet, throat suddenly tight and he gulped. “I...yes.”, he said. “I'm sorry.” Kasmeer gave him an empathetic glance and touched his shoulder gently and he allowed the comfort and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“It's the pollen.”, Kasmeer murmured. “Whatever you saw...it's not real.”

“I...”, Tivon's voice was low, husky, _broken_ , and he slowly nodded. “I hope so.” If...if it was... _Pale Mother_. He doubted he could take it. He raised his hand and curled his hand around the bud, needed to feel it against his palm and Kasmeer looked at him with understanding and sorrow, as if she understood the terror of what he had seen. Of what it felt like to...

“There, that seems to be it.” Majory murmured and was already moving forward once again and the two of them followed her. The luminescent glow came from a wall that was _alive_. It almost breathed and pulsed, as if it had a heartbeat, strange, spiked leaves forming an almost protective barrier towards its center where a large pustule lay. The pulse of it vibrated into the ground, unnerving, disquieting, and Tivon frowned and suppressed a shiver that threatened to roll over his spine.

Majory quickly pulled an apparatus from her cloak, corked and screwed a few flasks together and then raised what looked like a small drill-like needle. She stepped closer and Tivon and Kasmeer held their breath when she slammed the whole thing into the pustule and there was a shudder that went over the whole ground, the walls, _the ceiling_.

The pulses became erratic, unrhythmic, and Tivon cast his gaze around warily when he _heard_ it breathe. Was that another hallucination? Would it ever stop? He had already forgotten what a clear head felt like.

“Did you hear that?”, Kasmeer asked, frightened. “I think you made it mad.”

“This is going to sound crazy, but what if it 'knows' what we just did? What if it 'knows' what we're about to do?”, Majory asked and lifted her tired face from the anti-toxin to look at Kasmeer.

“And...what exactly _are_ we about to do?”, Kasmeer asked unsure.

“We're going to pump every last ounce of my antitoxin into the stalk of this thing- until it can't take another drop!” And then she started laughing hysterically, so much so that it felt like nails dragging over Tivon's skin and he stared at her, taken aback when suddenly, she stopped. “Ahem. It's been a long day.”

“I...uh...see.”, Tivon said, still blinking dumbfounded.

Whatever that _thing_ was, it seemed almost...alive. Pulsing. Reacting. _Breathing_ , like a massive beast with a stench and stifling breath. How had Scarlet managed to create something like this? No, no matter. They would take it down. Take it down for good.

The ground began to tremble and whatever _it_ was, it began to growl and howl, low and vibrating, and Majory slowly made a few steps back. “We gotta get outta here. When that last dose hits the plant's heart, all bets are off. Who knows what'll happen.”

“I can make a portal for us.”, Kasmeer offered. “It'll take us back below and we can warn the others.” With a swish of her hand she created a shining ring of purple beneath their feet and Tivon felt the magic hum in the air, knew this power from the sylvari. It brought back the terror of not knowing whether the hallucination was just that, or...

When he stepped through he felt almost nauseas and gulped, tried to ignore that sinking feeling in his chest. He barely noticed as all of the Vigil, Priory and Order of Whispers packed and marched out of the tower and gained distance – and they only looked back once they had reached the camp once again.

Majory stepped up toward the small advance on the hill, her eyes staring out toward the tower. “Come on.”, she murmured, and as if her words had been the last signal, it happened in a rush of moments.

There was a crackling noise, the pustule at the top of the tower turned an ugly shade of blood-red and then rust and then exploded into smithereens with a large, deafening and blinding blast. Pollen and plant pieces scattered into the air, sailing down toward the ground, but that was not all. The tower trembled under the force of the blast and began to topple in on itself like a house of cards, metal screeched and crashed, and pieces fell down toward the water as they begun crashing down.

It was a loud string of noises, rumbling and thundering and the ground shook and only ever so slowly, when the pieces of metal had settled on the ground and the water calmed, so did the noises and the sky cleared. The vigil, priory and order of whispers cheered and Kasmeer and Majory embraced, and Tivon stood at the ledge feeling...only a quarter of their happiness.

“Tiv!”, a voice called and Tivon turned around, not expecting the massive hand that slapped onto his shoulder and the big, broad grin Braham gave him.

“Braham!”, he said and grinned up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you know.”, the norn shrugged and Tivon saw Rox coming up behind him, smirking at Tivon. “We came to help and learned that you were already blowing everything up without us.”

Tivon laughed at that. “Sorry. But I can't take the credit. Majory did that.”

“So she's the investigator who caught the councillor's murderer?”, Braham asked, eyes fixed on Majory and Tivon followed his gaze.

“That's the one.”

“Necromancer, from the look of her.”, Rox murmured thoughtfully and tilted her head.

“I think I'll go say hello.”, Braham grinned and was already making his way over when Rox said,

“Be careful. She seems...uh...intense.”, but Braham did not seem deterred at all.

“Hello.”, Braham chriped and Majory and Kasmeer lifted their eyes from the bundle Tivon had given them to look at the massive norn. “I wanted to congratulate you on solving the councillor's murder.”

“My, aren't you a big boy.”, Majory said, her eyes following the line of Braham's body. There was something awfully ambiguous about the way she said that, and Tivon had to hold back his chuckle.

“One of the biggest in my homestead, actually. I'm Braham. Pleased to meet you.”

“Well, Braham. I don't currently have any mountain-sized acquaintances, so the pleasure's all mine. You can call me Majory.”

“So how'd you do it?”, Braham asked curiously. “Find the anti-toxin I mean.”

“It's just what I do.”, Majory shrugged.

“Kinda like fighting's what I do! I heard you caught the airship pirate who killed the Lion's Arch councillor too. Some...human.”

“You better say that with love, big boy.”, Majory warned with a playful smile.

“Oh, I like humans just fine. Well, some humans.”

Majory was grinning now. “I feel the same way.”

“Let me introduce you to my friend Rox.”, Braham grinned back and pointed at Rox who reluctantly came closer, Frostbite close at her heels. She was studying Majory with wary eyes.

“Hello.”, Majory greeted her. “I bet you two turn heads when you break through a crowd.”

“Funny.”, Rox said, with a slow smile that felt like she was only warming up. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Majory laughed. “Well, then I'm doubly glad to meet you.”

Kasmeer slowly stepped beside Majory, giving Braham and Rox a look-over. “Hi there.”, she said and smiled up toward them. “I'm Kasmeer, Majory's assistant. Are you the ones who went after Scarlet?”

“Yeah, I'm Braham, and that's Rox.”, Braham pointed, and Tivon was smiling, watching from the side.

“That was you?”, Majory said and looked surprised. She pulled a strand of hair back behind her ears as she continued. “So, what she means, but is too polite to say, is...you're the ones who let Scarlet slip through your grasp?”

“C'mon Braham. We'd better go.”, Rox was quick to say, all the smiles suddenly vanished.

“No need to fly off. I meant no offense.”, Majory tried to soothe, but Rox was already turning on her heel and moving away, her tail swishing briskly from one side to the other. When Rox moved Braham looked after her and sighed.

“See you again soon.”, he said to Majory and then stalked after Rox.

“Hm.”, Majory made and gave Tivon a look. “So, what happened with you and Scarlet?”

Tivon shrugged. “She got away. The rest hardly matters.”

“Fair enough.”, Majory yielded. “I think I'll take a well deserved nap now, if you don't mind.”

“Of course.”, Tivon said, even though it was hardly up to him to grant her permission for anything, much less _deny_ it. His thoughts were already wandering, his mind elsewhere, and when his fingers curled around the necklace Kasmeer gave him a knowing look.

“When will you be back?”, she asked with a smile, and Tivon wondered if it was that obvious that he was going to look for...well, she didn't know who it was. But he knew, and it felt like something was tearing in his chest if he didn't.

He chuckled and shrugged. “Later, I suppose. Go get some rest.” With that he waved and left her there, giving Braham and Rox a quick update as well – he didn't want to worry he friends needlessly.

Braham had his arms folded in front of his chest and was currently listing creatures, for what purpose Tivon didn't know.

“What about-”, Braham was about to say and Rox snapped,

“Yes, yes and yes!”

“But...you didn't know what I was gonna say.”, Braham pouted and noticed Tivon from the corner of his eyes. “Ah hey, look who it is. Can't believe you blew this place up without us.”

“Again.”, Tivon rolled his eyes playfully, “I was barely a by-stander. So, what are you guys up to?”

“About to go kill some krait.”, Rox grumbled and shivered. “Those things are _disgusting_.”

“You'll come along, right?”, Braham asked with a raised eyebrow and Tivon felt his throat tightening in response.

“Ah, no. I'm afraid not.”

“What? Where are you doing?”

“I...have to make sure....”, he hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase it without sounding completely like an idiot, even though he felt like one. “I'm going to look for someone.”

Braham frowned at him and Rox looked concerned. “Maybe you need our help?”, she offered, but Tivon shook his head.

“No, it's...it's fine. How about you let me know when Logan has another job for us?”

“Will do.”, Rox nodded.

“Well, be careful. These spores seem to have been carried with the wind and who knows how far they travelled.”

Tivon smiled, grateful that his friends understood. “I'll be...and you should be as well.”

With a last wave over his shoulder he broke into a jog, couldn't keep himself still enough to walk normally. He wanted...he needed to get away. Find someplace secluded and isolated and...

He took a deep breath. What he had seen in that nightmare tower remained in his head, a dark memory that festered and spread and he gulped, the worry making him almost nauseas. There was no reason that what he had seen held any truth at all. None at all.

And yet.

And yet he was afraid.

There was one place he could go he knew better than any place else. He rounded the lake, careful to avoid any unnecessary attention, his mind and body completely focussed. Derry was rushing after him, keeping the pace easily even as he continued jogging south, down toward caledon Forest. He had not been this close to home since...well, it had only been a few months, but it felt like forever.

His journey had lead him to all kinds of strange places, but he did not regret it at all. His breath came shorter now, but he did not slow his pace. Only when he finally was surrounded by the familiar surroundings of Caldeon Forest did he dare slow down, eyes gazing over the large plants, seeds and trees that made up part of his home.

The air here was clean, untainted by the toxins in Kessex Hills, and he breathed a sigh of relief when his feet moved through ankle-height water, the glade in front of him completely empty and abandoned. There was a small waterfall ahead that rippled over the stone wall and the sunlight sparkled and reflected in the blue stream, glittering mesmerizing.

His legs began to shake as he slowed down and he gulped, gently pulled the Karka from his shoulder and set it down into the sand, heard it chirping questioningly, but Derry was there to console it as he continued.

With certain steps he moved toward the small waterfall and extended his hand, felt it travel icy cold over his hand and arms and then waded through, almost held his breath when the shower washed over his skin and caught him in an icy grasp.

The cave that lay behind the waterfall was small and Tivon had found it once on his travels and had rested here, safe and sound. He remembered that time fondly and pulled the necklace forward, hands shivering, fingers trembling, and gentle and carefully pulled one petal between his thumb and forefinger from the blossom.

It was a soft pink, flush, almost warm between his fingers and he held his breath. For one second he thought that perhaps he was foolish, a complete and utter idiot for thinking that such a thing could possibly work. For one second the water stopped to rush, the sounds began to fade, the world seemed to halt. Everything seemed to still in his anticipation and panic settled in, gnawing, circling, _clawing_ , and then -

He turned around when he felt it. He felt the warmth of another body close to him, seeping through the leaves on his back, could feel those eyes on him staring intently and curiously, and when he saw the sylvari tilt his beautiful head with an unasked question Tivon made a sound in his throat; broken, chocked.

Without a word he rushed forward and pressed his face against the sylvari's chest, pulled him in closely and tightly, breathed in his scent and listened to his chuckle rumble from his chest and _oh_ , this was...

Arms rose around him, engulfing him and pulling him closer. “You're drenched.”, the sylvari chuckled close to his ear and Tivon didn't care, he didn't...

“The tower.”, Tivon chocked out. “I saw you at the tower. It...”

“Tivon.”, the sylvari said his name and Tivon stopped, closed his mouth. “Calm down. It's fine.”

“They had you.”, Tivon breathed out and nearly clawed into the sylvaris back, pulled him closer, couldn't let go. “The Nightmare Court they....” the sylvari stiffened beneath his arms and Tivon continued, “I know it wasn't real. I know it wasn't, but...”

“What did you see?”, the sylvari asked, hand caressing over his back in soothing circles and Tivon pulled away, tried to meet the sylvari's eyes and _couldn't_ , the terror of that moment, to see those eyes staring through him as if he didn't exist, as if nothing existed... Someone might have just as well punched a hole into his chest.

“There...there was the Nightmare Court.”, Tivon whispered and averted his eyes, the hands on his back holding him steady, secure, but the sylvari didn't push. _When has he ever_ , Tivon wondered. “They held you captive and...when I came for you...”, Tivon chocked on his words, they seemed to break in his mouth like brittle clay did over stone floor and he shook his head. “There was only a husk left.”, Tivon brought out and felt the tears rising into his eyes, fought them viciously with his eyelashes and gulped.

The sylvari leaned down and kissed Tivon's forehead, over his brow and down over his cheek with such gentle tenderness that had Tivon close his eyes because it was so _achingly sweet_ and he sighed, felt the tension slowly ebbing and fading away. He only noticed now how much his body trembled, how his arms quivered and how it felt like the sylvari was the only reason he was still standing.

“I'm fine, Tivon.”, the sylvari whispered against his cheek and Tivon felt the warm breath brush over his ear and shivered, leaning into the touch.

“I couldn't bear it.”, Tivon whispered back. “If something happened to you...”

“Tivon.”, the sylvari said once more, his voice strong and even and a little strict, but not unkind, “I'm fine. Calm down. Relax.”

Tivon took a deep breath and allowed his body to sink against the warmth of the embrace, the rhythmic breathing of the sylvari, the arms that held him secure and steady. “I'm...”, Tivon began and sighed. “I'm glad.”

He breathed in the sylvari's scent and felt the trickle of water droplets along his skin and began to shiver in the cold, nuzzled even closer and the sylvari pulled Tivon in tighter in response, warm breath washing over Tivon's foliage. “Better?”, the sylvari asked with a smile that Tivon could only so much hear as feel and Tivon nodded and sighed, slowly pulling away, his hands holding on to the sylvari's elbows.

“Yeah... I'm sorry.”

“For what?”, the sylvari chuckled.

“I know how irrational it was to think...”, he took a deep, serrated breath and couldn't look up, his eyes staring at the sylvari's chest instead where a small stem circled over the top of his sternum. “But it was so real, so very-”

The words were interrupted and he gasped in surprise against the sudden, chaste press of lips against his own and his body relaxed and yielded almost instantly, back arching slightly into the touch and neck craning to meet the lips with his own.

The sylvari tilted his head and his lips slanted over Tivon's, sweet and slick, and Tivon's head began to swim, his fingers fell from the sylvari's elbows down to his hips and rested there, trembling when the sylvari pulled him in even closer, making a noise in his throat that was a sigh and a low _growl_ , and devoured Tivon's lips hungrily as if he had been starving.

The change in intensity jolted through Tivon, unblemished and spiralling heat that circled in his fibres and reached into every parts of his body, warmth spreading through his chest down toward his abdomen, cold and water on his skin completely forgotten. He tried to grip harder just to have purchase, but all he managed was a surprised gasp when the sylvari bit into his lower lip and when Tivon opened his mouth the sylvari swallowed his mouth, swallowing all the noises right along with him.

Tivon whimpered as the tongue moved against his own, circling, moving, so slick and _hot_ it was unbelievable, and the pleasure clouded his mind, jolted through him like electricity that was vibrant even in his fingers, and then he felt the stirring in his groin, the hardness, the heat...

and it grew to full hardness when the sylvari pressed even closer, when his hands folded in the back of Tivon's neck and pulled him imperiously into the kiss as if he was the last drop of water on Tyria and Tivon heard him _groan._ The sylvari's thigh brushed against his groin, accidentally or deliberately, Tivon couldn't say, but the spark of pleasure nearly made him cry out and his whole body quivered in the sylvari's arms.

The heat rushed through him, even through his ears, and he felt that fear again, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop the heat, the unbound and ravishing desire that cruised through him, his body _yearning_ to be taken and devoured, and yet here he stood and lifted his hand feebly, shaking, and rested it against the male's chest because that was all he could do. He didn't have the strength to push, didn't have the words to speak, but the sylvari he, _oh_ , Tivon thought, he _noticed._

And once again the sylvari pulled away, hot breath rushing over Tivon's face, and the lust he saw in those eyes...the sylvari was _thirsting_ for this. _Hungry_. Tivon dragged in some much needed air, his lips feeling warm and slightly swollen, the sting from the bite long since forgotten and pulled his pelvis back with a wince and averted his eyes. He was... _Thorns_ , hard, just from one kiss. _How how how?_ Oh, he was such an idiot, such an....

The sylvari noticed the reaction. The way Tivon pulled back his pelvis, the way the ranger averted his eyes with the color rising high into his cheeks. “Tivon.”, the sylvari said in a whisper and Tivon shivered, couldn't bring himself to look up. Not when he was certain he would see his _disappointed_ face at the lack of his control, at how his body reacted.

“I'm sorry.”, Tivon breathed and much to his surprise the sylvari leaned again, not for another kiss, but to take his hand, fingers curling around his wrist gently but firmly.

“Tivon.”, the sylvari said again and pulled the hand closer and then Tivon felt his hand being dragged closer to the sylvari's body, his breath hitched, his head swam and then his palm rested against the sylvari's pelvis, his _groin_ , and Tivon could feel it hard beneath his fingers and his breath hitched. “It's perfectly normal.”, the sylvari whispered, a shudder running over his body and Tivon finally – Branches and Brambles, finally – looked up again, iris blown wide, mouth agape as if to argue, but all he could do was _pant_ and try to keep standing as the weight of this suddenly rested on him.

Tivon moved his hand, pressed it in closer and tighter around the hardness still hidden beneath the armor and was rewarded with a sigh and hiss, and he groaned in return. He had done this. _He_ had done _this._

“Oh.”, Tivon made when his knees buckled and everything around him seemed to turn and spin. It all seemed suddenly so insignificant now, so _stupid_ , and he didn't resist when the sylvari lunged into him, capturing and swallowing his lips hungrily. He only feebly registered that his legs refused to work and he clung onto the sylvari's shoulders, felt himself being lowered until he felt the cool and jagged surface of the rocks beneath him, but that didn't matter. None of it did.

The sylvari knelt over him, knees straddling his thighs, and Tivon whimpered into his lips, arched up into the space between them that was empty and cold and the sylvari leaned down, seaming them close close _closer_ from hip to chest, and _thorns_ , this was the best feeling Tivon had ever felt.

The heat of a body above his own, moving against him, hands roaming through the foliage atop his hand, wandering, _pulling_ , and Tivon groaned when the sylvari tugged at the leaves from his head and pulled his head to the side to bare his throat and dipped down, teeth scraping over skin. The sting of it was pulsing, thrumming, but all Tivon could do was not _cry out_ , because _Thorns_ , it felt amazing.

The sylvari's tongue darted out, slick tip teasing over the bitten skin, alleviating and apologetic, and Tivon withered against him, wanted more, _more_ , if that was even possible, because the whole world had already ceased to matter, it all seemed to come down to _this_ , to _them_ , here, together -

The sylvari kissed along his neck, down toward his shoulder and over his chest, his hands roamed over Tivon's skin leaving trails of fire and Tivon gripped the sylvari's shoulder, his arousal straining and _aching,_ the pulse of it its own kind of agony. The kisses teased down, down, _down_ and Tivon's breath hitched when the sylvari bit gently into his abdomen, tongue easing once again over the bite, leaving a hotcold trail that drove Tivon insane.

Hands caressed over the wing of his hipbones, over his side toward his thigh and Tivon's breath hitched, and then a hand folded over his length, warm through his armor and he arched up and cried out, heard the chuckle only faintly over the rush of water, over the rush in his _ears_ and panted to catch his air, but his body jolted, electricity surged through him when the had moved, just the palm, up and down, and Tivon's hands fell to the ground, fingers holding on to the cool stone beneath.

The sensation stopped for a split second, leaving Tivon to ride out the shudder of his skin and cold settle in, but then he felt the hand trailing beneath his armor, under the leaves up his thigh and whatever heat he had thought lost came back washing over him tenfold, fingertips dancing over skin, over the line of his thigh and then toward his pelvis and …

Tivon cried out for real, this time. His voice must have carried, but that didn't matter. His voice must have sounded embarrassing, _but that didn't matter_. He arched up, his body taking full control, his hips twitching needy into the touch and that tight grip that was on his arousal _gripped harder_ and he panted, chest heaving _,_ the demand for air almost _painful_ but every drag felt good, felt so, so, unbelievably _good_.

By the Pale Tree, he'd never thought this would feel so amazing. The sylvari's thumb moved over the tip and Tivon's world spun, he wanted to reach out, to grip, to grab, but he didn't have the strength. His limps felt like melted wax, his body a puddle on the floor and he blinked his hazy and glazed eyes open, mouth open in breathless _want,_ and the sylvari looked up at him, black-white eyes smouldering, the pattern pulsing like its own, living thing. There was a fight in the sylvari's eyes, Tivon could see it consuming his mind, something tearing at the walls there and Tivon wanted to _break them down_ , he wanted nothing in between, _nothing_ at all, and he bucked up with his hips, pressed his thigh tightly into the conjuncture of the sylvari's pelvis and thigh and the sylvari closed his eyes, lips parting and panting, and it was the most beautiful and alluring thing Tivon had ever seen. He did it again, and again and _again_ until the sylvari let out a whine, the fingers gripping almost agonizingly tight around his groin, but he didn't _care_. He felt that hard press of the sylvari's cock against his thigh, felt it pulsing and thrumming with every buck of his hip and he wanted...oh, he wanted...

The sylvari snapped, whatever battle that had been fought forgotten, the eyes sharp and cutting like a steel edge when they pierced Tivon where he lay and his whole body shuddered under the gaze and then the lips crashed against his and the hand tangled in his foliage, taking the brunt of the force when his head was pushed back. The fingers curled against the leaves and _pulled_ , brought an aching moan from Tivon's lips with a husky note he didn't recognize and his neck stretched wide and long and the sylvari bit down, hips pressing down and, _thorns_ , their bodies moved against one another, frantic, eager, _hungry_ , absolutely starving for friction.

Hips bucked up and down, hands tangled and roamed over skin, and the ache in his groin was nothing short of a _demand_ now that overtook all of his mind and he pushed his feet down to bring his hips up even further, seeking heat, seeking _friction,_ and the sylvari above him panted hot trails of air over his skin, his whole body engulfed and consumed by heat.

He felt it unspooling in hot, messy waves in his core, circling and storming like a maelstrom, faster, more urgent, _more_ , and he whined when the sylvari sank his teeth into his neck, pulling it until it gave a sweet ache that made everything inside Tivon _pulse_ with need. He gripped the sylvari's hips, fingertips digging into his ass, pulling him down, pulling him _against_ him, and the noises he heard were not just his own but _fuck_ , that made it just so much _better_ , so much -

Lips crashed down on his in breathless demand, wonderfully wet and hot lips gliding along his own, tongue darting over his bottom lips, slick and _filthy_ and _ohsogood_ that Tivon pushed into the kiss, into the slide of tongues, a battle of dominance he didn't _mean_ to win, heck he didn't even try, and when the sylvari pushed down flush against him, tongue thrusting deep into his mouth and the buck of his hips was nothing short of absolutely wanton and carnal Tivon couldn't hold back the heat as it unfolded like a flame, sparking and igniting to life like a campfire and it exploded in his center, fire, heat, _conflagration_ , and he tensed and came with a startled cry, the edge just suddenly there, the climax feeling as if at knife's point and his body shuddered and trembled, mind too hazy to register the desperate buckle of the sylvari's hip against his thigh, until the sylvari moaned against his lips, long and loud, and Tivon was quite sure that the earth must have shifted because _thorns_ , that had to be the most beautiful sound on the entire planet.

The frantic pulse between them slimmed, slowly cooling down. Breaths came in harsh pants, gushing in hot waves over skin, tingling and making Tivon shudder. His eyes opened slowly, hazily, staring up at the sylvari who looked dishevelled, the dark leaves slightly ruffled. Tivon grinned up at him and the sylvari chuckled and slowly raised himself, the dim light in the cave bringing out their patterns.

The moment where the world slowly shifted from its lust-filled distortion into reality once again, where the surroundings and the sounds weaved back into Tivon's consciousness and tugged him gently back toward the earth and the stone his back was pressed against he felt solemnity, tranquillity, and most importantly, he felt _content_. Wonderfully _whole_ and complete, as if this had been missing from him.

The sylvari above him was gazing down on him as if for him too the world had just narrowed down to Tivon, as if everything had ceased to matter. As if it was just the two of them. “I love you.”, Tivon whispered into the moment, breathed life into the words that rang through is body, mind and soul, that were suddenly so _important_ to the completion of this moment that they needed to be said. The sylvari smiled down at him and in the dim light it looked almost rueful and sad, but the thought drained from Tivon's mind when soft lips met his own, coaxing and chaste.

He sighed, his body too languid and battered to fully arch into it even though he was committed to it now, to this, to their connection they had shared, to give it all that he had to give, little as it was.

The kiss broke, the water rushing close by the only sound for a few seconds and it should have been distracting, but right now Tivon felt...serene. With a sigh he closed his eyes and the sylvari laughed a low, mirthful laugh. “Oh, so you are one of those.”, he smiled and Tivon smiled back lazily, couldn't even be bothered to open his eyes and felt soft kisses over his forehead, over his temple and down his cheek toward his chin with gentle intensity, almost as if his skin was breaking glass.

“Mh-hm.”, was all Tivon remembered answering, because next thing he knew he was dozing off wonderfully sated and _happy_.

  


 


	11. The Origins of Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HAPPENING OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENING AAAAAAAHHHH  
> *takes a deep breath* Sgileas is back! In all his dark and puissant glory. Gosh I can't stop grinning. I hope you're as excited as I am :D Enjoy this Chapter - it contains a bit of action and lots of sifting through information, the next chapter will be similar.  
> I've tried very hard to keep the story focussed on Tivon, but it's hard when Sgileas is there. I hope I managed...and if I didn't, let me know! This story is after all focussed on Tivon and Sgileas is like the cherry atop the cake. Yup, I just called Tivon a cake, cause he's adorable and sweet.  
> Anyway....Enough babbling! Enjoy! :D

The patience of a single man could be tested to its utmost limits. Or such was the conclusion that Sgileas found, because the Priory Explorer was _still_ telling him about how amazing the stars had looked through the magnifying glass.

“Yes.”, Sgileas said, trying very hard (he really did) to keep the annoyance from his voice, but it weaved into the words, and when it did not, he did all that he could do to not feel abused and beaten and used sarcasm instead, “I _saw it_. Most magnificent, those twinkling things.”, he said and the woman's eyes sparkled, but her ears must be deaf to his tone, or her eyes blind to the annoyance painted in his face.

“It was wonderful!”, she said, hands reaching out toward the sky as they were marching over the ground and Sgileas was _begging_ that they reach Fort Trinity soon...because he couldn't take much more.

“Yeah.” Sgileas sighed. “Stars.” His patience had been stressed to its very limits and all that kept Sgileas from abandoning the small group to charge ahead was the calming thought of finally arriving back at the Fort, the thought of finally seeing Trahearne again after months of being stuck in Arah.

Why it had taken so long? Well, because a certain stubborn magister had decided to play with levers that were none of his business and got them trapped inside the city because it initiated a lock-down mechanism. Thankfully Sgileas had no trouble disposing of any remaining horrors in the city, but he had not enjoyed being perched in the same chamber with the magisters for _weeks_.

When the gates to Fort Trinity finally opened with a most familiar and almost comforting sound Sgileas was not the only one to breathe a sigh of relief. The priory members and scholars scattered over the plaza and Sglieas steps brought him toward the command center in almost a daze, barely registering where his feet carried him.

It was dark and night, but despite everything he could see the torches still burning up ahead and knew...he just _knew_.

He imagined the reunion in a variety of ways. He wanted nothing more than to ascend the stairs, walk up to the firstborn and pull him into an embrace, kiss him senseless in front of everyone, declare that even in the time apart it had not changed that Trahearne was _his,_ but they were both not fond of public displays, even though Trahearne's flustered face painted a pretty picture in his head. _Just a bit more of patience_ , he told himself.

As he ascended the stairs his boots made a noticeable amount of noise on the metal and he was sure his coming was announced long before anyone saw him and he heard Trahearne's voice, soft and rich and strict, just as he remembered, and fondness spread in his chest that he didn't bother to alleviate.

“...asking for assistance.”, Trahearne was saying when finally, by the Pale Tree _finally_ , Sgileas saw him. He looked unchanged, a little tired perhaps, but enough so that Sgileas simply wanted to walk over there, grab him and carry him back to bed and curl around him protectively, protect him from the world, their duties...everything.

Thorns, he had it bad.

But it all – the feelings, the tearing in his breast, the _desire_ and _want_ \- just got _worse_ when Trahearne looked up from the map and their eyes met. The others, Wynne and Doern and Efut, they looked too, but Sgileas never remembered anyone other than Trahearne being more insignificant than right now. Not when he saw the slow drag of the corners of Trahearne's lips turn into a smile, not when time and space itself seemed to slow down and it took all of his willpower not to walk over there, grab him by the collar and -

“Ah, Commander.”, Efut greeted him and brought him from his small daydream. “How was Arah?”

“Dusty.”, Sgileas grumbled and for demonstration thumped with his head against his robe and a cloud of dust and dirt whirled free.

“No kidding.”, Efut dead-panned and waved the dust away with a motion of her hand.

“I would like to speak with the Commander, if you would.”, Trahearne said and warmth spread in Sgileas chest, a heat at the words that were credited to his filthy, depraved mind.

“Of course.”, Wynne answered and he could see the shit-eating grin on Efut's face, but the small female didn't dare to answer, her mirthful eyes alone were enough to tell him that she knew exactly what was going to happen.

Strange, because even Sgileas hadn't decided _how_ he would take Trahearne yet.

He looked over his shoulder and saw them exit down the stairs and as soon as they were gone, out of sight, he stepped forward urgently and gripped the back of Trahearne's neck with his hands and pulled the firstborn into a searing kiss, latching their lips together in a tight lock. Trahearne laugh-moaned against his mouth and _oh_ , this was the most amazing feeling and sound in the world. He swallowed all of Trahearne's noises, tasted him on his lips, the tang of bitter tea and the sweetness, and he groaned and leaned even further in, his tongue gliding over Trahearne's bottom lip, asking, coaxing, and Trahearne gasped, yielding.

He thrust his tongue inside, swirling, turning, tasting, and he couldn't hold back the possessive growl coming from his chest, but Trahearne keened, languid and pliant in his arms, his hands just barely gripping into Sgileas back for purchase, his back arched in a curvaceous bow.

Sgileas pulled back and bit Trahearne's lower lip, pulled at it as he retreated back and Trahearne's breath hitched and then, as hard as it was to pull away, Sgileas allowed the distance between them to grow, but he heard himself pant, saw the shudder ripple over Trahearne's skin when his warm breath caressed over his cheeks.

Trahearne's lips looked slightly swollen from the kiss, and _slick_ , enough so that Sgileas had to force his eyes to look up into Trahearne's yellow eyes where he saw the blooming of desire and if they were in his chambers, if there were a closed door...

Well, Sgileas wouldn't let go for the entire night.

Trahearne gave a soft chuckle. “I missed you too.”

“That description comes far too short. I didn't just _miss_ you.”, Sgileas murmured, his voice brunt and raw and earnest, and Trahearne looked like he understood. This wasn't just being apart and thinking _I'd like him with me._ It was his soul screaming that his other half was missing, that he _needed_ to be here instead, a sweet, agonizing ache deep within his chest, like a splinter in his soul that he couldn't pluck free, and why would he? Now, _only_ now when his arms fell down to Trahearne's hips, when his hands caressed over the small of his back, when Sgileas was certain this wasn't one of his dreams he had in the lonely nights in Arah, with Trahearne actually in his arms and close to him, he felt complete.

“I'm glad you are alright.”, Trahearne smiled at him and _thorns_ , that smile was worth every single grain of sand that stuck in his boots, every bit of dirt and dust on his robe, every testing of his patience over the past few months. It was...everything. Trahearne was _everything_.

“What did I miss?”, Sgileas asked instead and gulped down the _need_ , but he refused to let go and that possessive part of him noticed with a pleased purr that Trahearne didn't even _try_ to leave, to step away and do something else that would require him to move away. If anything, he leaned even further in, warmth of his body permeating the air and spreading over Sgileas' chest.

“The situation with Scarlet is getting worse.”, Trahearne sighed and Sgileas could see it on his face long before he said it; that with the threat hanging over their heads he would have to leave, once again, and nobody could tell him how long that would take, and that _ache_ of parting once again, it hung over them like a mark, cold and grasping. “She stole Pact plans and is responsible for banding the Molten Alliance, the Aetherblades and the Toxic Alliance together.” When Sgileas raised his eyebrow Trahearne explained, “The Toxic Alliance is an alliance between krait and Nightmare Court.”

“The..”, Sgileas said, but his mind simply had stopped to compute. How...what...”Why would anyone work with the krait?”, he finally brought out and remembered those disgustingly snake-like beings that were worth absolutely nothing. What could they gain from such an alliance? And why did Scarlet enforce it?

“They covertly built a tower in Kessex Hills that was hidden beneath a powerful mesmer shroud. It spread toxins over the air that made the victims hallucinate. It was stopped before much damage could be done, but now the priory have spotted a massive flying object, an airship perhaps, over Lornar's Pass. It looks like Scarlet's design.”

Sgileas knew that Trahearne was thinking what he was thinking. _We have to act_.

He sighed and almost reflexively gripped Trahearne tighter, pulled his hips closer against him. He didn't want to let go. For just...a little longer he wanted to be selfish and impertinent and-

A hand rose between them and Trahearne cupped his cheek with a tenderness that brought a shock through Sgileas at the touch and the firstborn smiled a sad smile that Sgileas wanted to disappear, to _eradicate_ it from existence. Nobody, not even _he_ should be able to put that expression on Trahearne's beautiful face. Trahearne should be happy, Sgileas wanted him _happy_. And he knew how idiotic and stupid his own thoughts sounded, but...seeing Trahearne well, it was more important than his own breathing.

“One night.”, Trahearne said hushed, eyes deep and gleaming in the darkness. “I think we can be selfish for one night.”

Sgileas didn't remember leaning in, but next thing he knew he was pulling in Trahearne close, tight, _tighter_ , as if by force and strength of will alone he could seam and bind them together, and his lips moved against Trahearne's, filthily, eager, _hungry_.

 _One night_ , Sgileas repeated in his head when he brought his hands under Trahearne's bottom and lifted him onto the wooden table, brushing away parts of figures and cups with his arm in a wide motion enough that they clattered to the ground. Trahearne sighed against his lips and lifted his arm to the side and Sgileas felt that familiar pull of magic, heard the gurgle and slurping of a minion coming to life, but he barely paid it any mind. He saw it moving toward the stairs, keeping an eye out, keeping guard, and Sgileas wanted to chuckle at what extend they were willing to take this, but he wanted this, right now, and walking down to their chambers, small a distance as it was – no. It meant parting from Trahearne's sweet and slick lips, it meant letting that body drift away from him again, it meant spending seconds of their precious time on _walking,_ it meant not being able to do _this_.

He pressed in between Trahearne's thighs, pushed them apart, but it required no force. Trahearne opened them up willingly, thighs straddling his hips, Trahearne's feet pressing against the back of Sgileas legs when they folded around his hips and he groaned and pushed his already hardened groin against Trahearne's pelvis to show him exactly what he was in for, to show him what kind of affect the firstborn had on him, and to be foreboding in the face of what he was about to do.

Trahearne moaned at the contact, body shuddering beautifully in Sgileas arms and Sgileas couldn't keep the smirk from his lips and he lifted his hand toward the torch, turned his palm and closed his hand, and an icy breath made the flame flicker violently and then die away, and then darkness fell over them and covered them completely, shielding and hiding them from sight as they made this one night their own.

  


_Tivon,_

_I'm asking friends to meet me in Lornar's Pass, where Scarlet's dropped some new type of twisted monstrosity from one of her portals. Local Priory observers are convinced that she's planning to set off a doomsday weapon in their remote end of the Shiverpeaks. They say she's recalling her twisted watchwork troops from all over Tyria to power her weapon test, and I say that we need to shut it down before a lot of innocents get killed._

— _Marjory Delaqua_

Tivon folded the letter once again, bracing himself against the bitter gust of wind that ruffled the leafs on his skin. There certainly was no mistaking it. There the thing was, the monstrosity that was an overlarge watchknight. From the priory base it looked strangely small and far away, but it was almost as large as the many mountains that surrounded it.

“It...it certainly is disquieting.”; Tivon murmured and gave Majory a look. “Do we have a plan on how to bring it down?”

“The Priory are working on a plan.”, Majory said and sighed. “It seems that many of Scarlet's machinery are actually stolen plans from the Pact, so they finally decided to get involved.”

“I take it that's a good thing.”, Tivon said with a frown, because Majory didn't look happy. But then again she rarely did. Her face was pale as if cut from marble, perfect without a single crease, and he got a tilt of her head as an answer.

“It certainly won't hurt to have more people at our side. It looks like it was built to withstand a beating.”

“Not the kind that I can give.”, Braham grumbled, thick arms folded in front of his chest, pale eyes glaring out over the terrace toward where the watchknight hung from a hovering ship, chains connecting it like a massive marionette. “I hope this spokesperson arrives soon.”

“Wait.”, Tivon said. “Person? Are we expecting _one_ person?”

His question was answered for him when there suddenly was a large amount of noise, voices arguing with one another eagerly in great commotion. They turned around toward a small blob of people that were all rushing toward a single figure, eagerly trying to engage in some kind of conversation, but the figure lifted a hand and everything – even the small asura – went suddenly completely still and quiet.

The figure was a sylvari, taller than Tivon was, dark teal skin and dark, stern eyes that looked like they could freeze the ground if they wished. A large scythe rested on his back, the blade covered in a moving shadow that looked like it might drift away in the breeze, but it clung and clawed around the sharp steel edge...waiting like a predator, as if it were a living thing.

“Oh.”, Majory made and Tivon might have imagined it, but she looked even paler.

“Who is he?”, Tivon asked and tried to suppress the shiver that rippled over his skin, a nervous prickle throbbing in his toes and fingertips. The aura around that person was...stifling and intimidating, rising through the air like an invisible corona that threatened to snuff out every ounce of warmth. Tivon had never felt such _raw_ and unbound power before, and he was _standing a couple meters away_.

“That's the Commander of the Pact.”, Majory answered in a hushed voice, her chin tipped slightly to the side.

 _The Commander of the Pact_ , Tivon echoed in his head, and then the pieces in his head stuck together. “He...he's the one who took down Zhaitan, isn't he?” Majory nodded and Tivon understood now. “Oh.”, he made and stiffened when the figure came marching toward them, leaving the group of priory members behind.

This...this _sylvari_ had been the one to struck down an _Elder Dragon_ . It was only natural that whatever power he wielded, he wielded it _openly_ , plainly for the world to see because...what was the point of hiding it? Or maybe he couldn't? Thorns, Tivon found it harder to simply _breathe_ , his body trembling, instincts screaming at him to _run_ , run, run, and not look back.

“I have been told you are the ones who have foiled Scarlet's plans.”, the sylvari said and stood before them as if he owned the ground he stood on and his eyes were dark except for the soft purple glow in them, and even that seemed to pulse with all the power underneath that skin. Tivon gulped when those eyes met his and he nodded quickly.

“Ah, yes.”, he said and quickly pointed toward his friends. “These are my friends Rox, Braham, Majory and Kasmeer. I'm Tivon.”

The sylvari slowly nodded as if considering the names. “I am here to make sure that Watchknight is brought from the sky. I will hear all that you can tell me about her while we march out.”

“We have a plan then?”, Rox asked and the Commander turned his head to study her coolly.

“Of course.”, he said. “Smash the pieces until they don't move any longer.”

“Heh.”, Braham made and clasped his two gloved hands together. “Now that's something I can do.”

“Might we know your name, Commander?”, Kasmeer asked hesitantly and Tivon could see that she too was nervous. The only one that didn't seem the slightest intimidated was Braham, and that only because he only had eyes for the Marionette in the distance.

“My name is Sgileas.”, the Commander answered and began to move, and they all followed him like moons drawn toward a large planet. “What can you tell me about Scarlet?”, he asked, his dark eyes hovering over the Watchknight in the distance. Behind them many priory members were already falling in behind them, and Tivon wondered how one sylvari could command such an air of obedience with _only_ his presence.

“She's a sylvari that broke her ties to the Pale Tree very early.”, Tivon explained. “She apparently wandered the world and was allowed to study in the three different asuran colleagues and did so in record time. Something...must have happened in her time there, because she changed after that. Nobody knows why she's crazy now.”

“Nothing on her motivations then?”, Sgileas asked with a raised eyebrow. “Nothing at all that would seam this mess together? Why the many alliances?”

“My guess is as good as yours.”, Tivon shrugged and when Sgileas raised a questioning eyebrow at him he stuttered quickly, “Ah, well, yours might be better.”

The Commander sighed, whether it was frustration or exasperation Tivon couldn't tell. “The plan will be to cut the chains keeping the Marionette upright. The priory have informed me that there are energy fields surrounding the Marionette that need to be disrupted before the chains are vulnerable to our attacks.”

“It's huge.”, Tivon murmured. The closer they got it became clearer and clearer, even when he craned his neck he had trouble actually seeing the massive marionette's head. When he looked down again he noticed that Sgileas didn't even seem to have heard him, and he slowly asked, “Was Zhaitan this large?”

That seemed to startle the Commander from his thoughts and the dark, icy eyes focussed on Tivon and under that gaze he felt like a candle flickering in the wind, completely at the icy gusts' mercy. One lifted hand from the Commander and his life would be snuffed out. “No.”, Sgileas answered slowly, the memory clearing showing behind his eyes. “If I recall correctly, it was larger.”

“By the Pale Tree.”, Tivon murmured, trying to conjure it in his head and failed. “I can't imagine what that must have been like. How did you...”

“Kill it?”, Sgileas finished for him, and his expression was entirely nonchalant, as if they were discussing dinner. “I struck my scythe through its brain.”

That only left more questions for Tivon, but before Tivon could ask them Sgileas lifted his hand, and the gesture alone was enough to have the instincts in Tivon's body screaming for him to be quiet, to make himself as small as possible so that he didn't...get hurt? So that he wouldn't be killed? It felt so _overwhelming_ , just standing beside this sylvari. Stifling and bone-crushing. “Focus on the task.”, Sgileas ordered, and even though it was said with a dismissive tone, Tivon couldn't help but _admire_ the sylvari.

How had someone like _that_ awakened from the very same bough as him? From the same Mother? It was incomprehensible, how there could be one of Sgileas and one of Tivon, as if the Pale Tree had run out of power and love somewhere along the way.

 _No, that's not fair_ , Tivon thought to himself, mentally slapping that self-hurting part in him. _You're just jealous of that strength. You are healthy, alive, and loved, just as well._

The marionette was just ahead, the fight imminent. Sgileas raised his hand and absolutely everyone obliged, standing still. The Commander turned to look over the crowd behind him, the many people that had come to fight alongside them. Tivon could see humans among the group too, as well as Logan who gave him a curt nod which he returned. These watchknights were a work of human craftmanship. It didn't surprise him that they had come to righten this wrong.

The marionette dangled from the sky high over their heads just behind the many passages that lead toward the adjacent mountain. “Split into groups and fill those platforms, disrupt the energy shields, sever the chains, and most importantly, don't die.”, Sgileas said, his voice suddenly booming loud, loud enough that absolutely everyone could hear, and Tivon could see the shadows spiking to life and realized with a sudden jolt of fear that Sgileas was a Necromancer, someone using dark and death magic. “Let's take down this puppet.”

The people swarmed by and Tivon gripped his bow tighter, felt suddenly anxious and nauseas, but he stood close to his friends and with them, he felt just a little safer. There were so many people around them, all rushing toward where the marionette hovered from the sky, a grotesque and twisted watchknight that had been supposed to be a symbol for human resilience.

Now it was Scarlet's minion. It was so large that Tivon's body would have barely reached half the height of its heel, and as the whole attacking force charged toward it the chains clicked and chimed up high over their heads, the marionette suddenly charging and coming to life.

“Keep the minions away!”, Sgileas voice roared and Tivon's head whirled around, in search for what the Commander meant. There were small passages through the mountains on the side, all leading toward the marionette, splitting the forces almost evenly as they rushed forward. In those very lanes more twisted Watchknights started to appear, the kind Tivon remembered seeing at the Queen's Jubilee, and they appeared from a field of static right in front of their eyes, right in the middle of the swarm of their united forces.

It was...chaos. But not the kind of uncoordinated, nauseating, nerve-filling kind of chaos. It was the kind where Tivon wasn't sure that if he were to lift his bow if perhaps he would do more harm than good and decided to stick with his sword instead, his entire concentration when he swung the blade on not hurting anyone of his surrounding allies.

The watchknights came through a portal that hovered mid-air, sizzling and crackling with the current of electricity, a static corona surrounding it. “Shut those portals down!”, he heard the Commander cry, and various priory members were already working in, while he could hear the noises of fighting from the other lines still. With a swing of his arm he cut through a watchknight, sprockets and other metal parts screeching beneath the steel of his blade before the twisted machine sunk to the ground in a heap of metal.

The portals flickered dangerously and Tivon saw something pass through before the portal had closed and quickly cut into a watchknight that looked like an overgrown bee, the green, glowing eyes barely having had time to look around at all.

A large watchknight that stood on multiple legs like a spider brought up a weapon in one of its many hands and Tivon recognized the flamethrower just in time and slithered underneath the watchnknights legs as the flames gushed through the air over his head, its upper body spinning dangerously. The screams around him were almost deafeningly loud and he tried to cut under the marionettes body when a sudden _cold_ filled him and he whirled around. A shade came rushing toward him, like the reaper or death himself and Tivon didn't even have time to dodge aside when the scythe swung, shroud curling around the blade and with a swing the scythe came down diagonally and the watchknight stilled and then clattered toward the ground, cut cleanly in half, the scythe stilling bare inches from Tivon's arm.

He let out a breath and stared up at the Commander who erected himself to full height and shouldered his scythe and looked over his shoulder as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I said,” Sgileas growled over his shoulder toward the priory members “Shut it down!”

“On it, Commander!”, a priory member shouted back and then, finally, the sizzling of the portal died down as it disappeared into thin air. Tivon could suddenly breathe again, breaths coming in harsh, labored pants, the anxiety and adrenaline of battle slowly getting to him.

“Get to the platform.”, Sgileas ordered him and Tivon nodded with a tight throat.

“Derry, heel.”, he ordered and was brushing past him, running toward the platforms that lay ahead, blocked only by the the massive marionette that was hovering from its strings, long, large legs attempting to kick the approaching forces away. When he saw Majory and Kasmeer he quickly pulled them along. “Toward the platforms!”, he called, turning mid-run before gracefully continuing his run and ducking beneath the iron tip of the marionettes foot, slithering over the ground beneath it.

When he rose on his feet again he jumped up toward the platform, the metal icy cold beneath his fingers and pulled himself up with a powerful pull of his arms, but before he had even found his footing multiple watchknights turned around to face him and he ducked beneath a blade, the depth behind him looming and dangerous.

With a quick twist of his body he ducked low, leg extended to the side and cut with his sword through the metal of the creature, felt the resistance of the hardened material resist for a split second before he cut through. Another twisted watchknight came buzzing toward him, another that looked very much like an overlarge bee and Tivon gave it a quick kick and it flew down over the side and cracked open against the stone below, slowly coming to a halt in the snow.

The last watchknight was one of the large ones with heavy green eyes and he was just wondering how to approach it with all its arms and legs twisting and turning when Vail cried from above and Tivon ducked, saw the shadow over his head and the massive foot of the marionette kicked at where he had been just a second before and met air, momentum dragging it forward and slamming the twisted watchknight into the power regulator. It exploded in a buzz of fire and electricity and once the foot swung back Tivon shrugged.

“Well, that takes care of that.”, he murmured to himself and Vail landed on his shoulder, crowing accusingly in his ear that sounded very much like a lecture for another time.

The chains rattled dangerously over his head and he could watch as the power disrupted and the shield around the shackle broke away, stuttering out of existence.

“One down!”, he yelled over the battle, but didn't know if his voice had carried. He scanned over the man people and could make out the Commander as easily as one could a spot of black paint on a frozen, pale river, the shadows of the shroud looming high and hissing, the scythe swinging and cutting through the metal as if there was no resistance at all, and then Sgileas turned around and their eyes met, even so far across the battlefield and he nodded as if he had heard.

“Stay clear from the marionette!”, he ordered and Tivon nodded gravely, his eyes trained on the marionette dangling in between the platforms, massive body swinging back and forth, dark, gleaming green eyes mustering them lifelessly.

“One more down!”, Kasmeer called and stood close to the outer side of her metal platform, her eyes glancing nervously to Tivon. Above their heads the shield around the chain stuttered and broke, and then the other shields followed suit when Majory, Rox and Braham did the very same.

“Shields are down!”, Braham's louder voice roared and Sgileas looked up at the marionette, eyes squinting.

“Bring it down!”, he ordered and the priory began to build up a device with a large round energy conductor at its tip that began to sizzle and burn up with blue, fiery energy. “Clear the area!”

Tivon and the others jumped down from the platforms and ducked beneath the marionettes futile attempt of cutting them off, dodging the large feet that swung just inches over their heads and they all regrouped at where Sgileas stood, who was standing tall, eyes squinted up towards the marionette, his hand clutched around his scythe.

“Well?”, he said and whipped his head around. The priory members adjusted the canons one last time before they nodded and Sgileas gave the signal with a gesture of his arm. “Fire!”

Tivon almost pitied the marionette, then. It was dangling from its chains, completely limp and lifeless, abandoned and doomed to its fate, its large, green eyes staring down at them, Priory and Vigil and Order of Whispers, all united to fight a single foe. Was this what fighting with the Pact felt like? Being unstoppable and powerful?

The beams were highlighted rays of blue, soaring and searing through the air and aiming for the chains that began to glow a furious red under the heated beam and then, the chains snapped simultaneously, the marionette hovered for a moment longer before dropping down toward the ground with an earth-shuddering crash, completely life-less and cut from anything that had controlled it once. The glow stopped and faded ever so faintly, and Tivon could barely hear anything except the loud, _massive_ cheer that went through the small army they had built.

Whatever had hovered over their heads disappeared behind the white clouds and Sgileas watched it with apprehension and tense shoulders, his hand making no movement to stow the weapon at all.

“Tch.”, Sgileas made and looked almost furious. Tivon frowned and stepped beside him.

“What's wrong?”, he asked in confusion. “We did it. We brought down the marionette.”

“Yes.”, Sgileas snapped and looked at Tivon as if he had just personally insulted him. “This was no battle. This was a serving plate. The marionette was no _real_ threat.”

Now that Tivon thought about it, Sgileas – no, the _Commander,_ he corrected himself instantly - was right. The marionette had been constricted in its movements, to this very place, and the plan to take it down had been obvious from the start. The shields, the chains...they had known all of it before-hand. So the real threat.... Tivon craned his neck and searched for that ship that had hovered there just a moment ago, but it was no where to be seen, hidden behind the fluff of white.

“Weapon test my twigs.”, Sgileas grumbled. “No, this was a distraction. Nothing more.”

“Then...?”

“We can expect for this not to be the end. Whatever weapon Scarlet meant to test here, it certainly was not the marionette. We need to review what we know.” Sgileas seemed entirely lost in thought, too far away for Tivon to even reach him. It felt overwhelming still to be in the presence of the Commander of the Pact, a sylvari that looked so much larger than life itself. _Perhaps_ , Tivon thought, _he can take down Scarlet, too._

“Well, that wasn't much of a battle.”, Braham said, nearly pouted. “I was expecting more than sprockets and bent pieces of metal.”

“Just what kind of weapon did Scarlet try to test with this?”, Kasmeer asked when she and Majory approached, all of them watching the marionette that lay on the ground warily. Various priory members were already rushing toward it, wanting to pull it apart.

Sgileas ignored her and gestured for them to follow. “I intend to look for some answers. There must be something that we can find out about Scarlet to figure out why she is doing this.”

“There is a Scholar you can talk to. Her name is Ela Makkay. She was charged with documenting Scarlet's War.”, Majory mentioned.

“So we call it a war now.”, Sgileas sighed. “Where might I find her?”

“Why, she should be at the Durmand Priory.”

Sgileas moved without asking anyone, turning on his heel and marching off as if the rest of the battle could easily wrap itself up without any of his assistance. Perhaps it could, Tivon didn't know. It was just... Sgileas carried all his knowledge, all that commandeer and superiority like a second skin, as if he had been born to it, there was no air left to _question_ him, and the five of them followed him like dogs on a leash, magnetized and pulled along.

Tivon's eyes wandered over the battlefield and he only caught a quick glimpse of Logan talking to a small asura and a golem before the six of them – pets excluded by the count – made their way through the cold that was Lornar's Pass. Tivon had gotten quite used to the cold, even if the occasional cold breeze made him shiver. It was all in relative silence until Sgileas snapped,

“You have a question.”

Tivon startled a little at that, heat rising into his cheeks and he sputtered, “Ah, I'm sorry?”

“You've been staring at me for a while now.”, Sgileas said, eyes darting toward him from the side, watching from the corner of his eyes. “There is a question on your mind, so ask away and be done with it.”

“I...well...”, Tivon fumbled for words, “I was just wondering if you could tell us about the time you fought Zhaitan.”

“Why?”, Sgileas asked back, and he sounded almost annoyed. “So many ask about the _how_ that they forget it _had_ to be done. I wasn't alone, despite what people say. All _I_ did was deliver the killing blow.”

“Yes.”, Tivon breathed in awe, not at all deterred by Sgileas outburst. He could understand that someone like him would be annoyed to be asked the same question over and over again, but Tivon couldn't control his curiosity and his reverie. Meeting someone who had fought such a force felt like it was almost from the Dream of Dreams. “Against _Zhaitan_.” He imagined it in his minds eye, a great, massive dragon and a single sylvari with his scythe. The picture sent a shiver down his back.

Sgileas sighed in resignation. “We were on a ship. It clung to us like a limpet. I cut it down. The end.”

“Wow, you're terrible at telling stories.”, Braham murmured and Sgileas rolled his eyes dramatically.

“I am not a skaald.”, Sgileas dead-panned.

“I heard you were stuck in Arah, for a time.”, Majory cut in and tilted her head with a curious expression. “What was that like?”

“That awful place?” Kasmeer asked and looked stricken, terrified by the idea of the place alone. Tivon had heard about Arah, or Orr in general, and to him it had sounded like a land too wounded to heal, but even in that he had been wrong.

“Ugh.”, was all Sgileas made and didn't answer.

“We only ever hear stories.”, Tivon said, in a way to alleviate Sgileas annoyance. This was not quite the hero he had pictured, but he could see the Commander very easily standing at the front of any battle, commanding utter obedience from his soldiers, and everyone, _absolutely everyone_ , yielding to his command. “It's...strange to walk beside a legend. In person, is all.”

Sgileas studied him for a moment, and all the cold demeanour and arrogance seemed to lift slightly, leaving a sliver of humility. “It is not I who deserves this reverie.”, Sgileas murmured. “Reserve it for the fallen.”

That was a grim and bitter truth and Tivon averted his eyes as they ascended the slope, the building of the Durmand's priory headquarters looming high over their heads. Majory lead the way toward the Scholar, a human woman with darkened skin and raven black hair, a small piece of jewelery adorning her forehead. “I am told you can tell me about Scarlet.”, Sgileas said and the scholar recognized him and opened her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Yes, of course. What do you wish to know?”

“Everything.”

“Oh.”, she made. “Well...The biggest news is that we've identified the location of one Scarlet's labs. And, would you believe it's been right under the Durmand Priory the whole time?”

“I would.”, Sgileas said and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I am no stranger to idiocy.”

The scholar continued, undeterred, if a little stung in her pride. “Our _finest_ scholars have approved the following information,”, she emphasized, “though as always, we may not yet have the full story. In her early years, Scarlet showed an insatiable desire for knowledge. She travelled from mentor to mentor, soaking up what knowledge she could gain from each—an admirable pursuit, I'm sure you'll agree.”

“Go on.”, Sgileas said in a dismissive tone, but he was entirely focussed and concentrated.

“Unfortunately, she went astray when she lost her moral compass. She dabbled in knowledge that would have damaged the minds of even our most stalwart researchers. Combining magic and engineering, she looked beyond our world. What she saw in those greater workings broke her mind. Thus, she murdered her mentor and began her assault on Tyria. First, she explored an alliance between Flame Legion charr and dredge. This alliance provided her and her allies with weaponry they'd never have developed on their own. They combined Flame magic with the earth element skills of the dredge. Fire and earth. Scarlet is preparing a well-balanced army. Elementalists must surely have noticed her use of all the elements. Next, she enticed airship pirates to join with Inquest. The pirates had been working on an airship design, but it didn't become viable until Inquest magic was added to the mix. Air. We suspect that she has always been fascinated with asuran portal magitech, and she succeeded in taking it to a whole new level. She used this to assault the Queen's Jubilee.”

At the mention of those events Tivon gave Braham and Rox a knowing smile, and the two of them returned it with a mirthful expression. That had been when all of this had started, when they had finally begun piecing everything together; the puzzle that Scarlet was.

“She took the queens watchwork sentinels and created horrors of them, warping them to her own purposes. This is her pattern. She steals the knowledge of others, then twists it. Her latest victory was convincing krait to work with Nightmare courtiers. We have confirmed that she held one of their sacred icons over their heads to get them to do so.”

“That explains why the krait would work with anyone.”, Sgileas shook his head with a sigh. “What then? You think that was how water was added?”

She nodded gravely. “The result was a plant so toxic that it has all but destroyed beautiful Kessex Hills, and now, she has the toxin from it. We're trying to guess how she will use that toxin but have little to go on. She guards her motives closely, though if we knew them, we could perhaps predict her next move. I hesitate to mention the theories, because I do not know which is the truth. Some believe it's a lark. A few suggest that her ultimate target is the dragons. More say she's working for the dragons. Still others believe she has a maniacal desire to rule the world. I honestly don't know, but I have a bad feeling it won't be long before we find out. You be careful out there. There's a dark cloud hanging over us all.”

“Isn't there always?”, Sgileas murmured and sighed. “Thank you for your information.”

“The dragons?”, Kasmeer asked when they stepped away. Most of it was not really news to Tivon, except for the theories as to why Scarlet was doing this.

“Pure speculation.”, Sgileas said thoughtfully. “So long as there is little to no evidence on that claim, I would rather we did not entertain every marginal possibility.”

“What do you suggest we do then?”, Rox asked. “We have no idea what Scarlet is planning next.”

“It should not be too hard finding a massive flying object.”, Tivon shrugged. “I think I can try and track it down.”

“That certainly is the right spirit.”, Sgileas agreed. “But I think we should instead see this lab for ourselves.”

Rox lifted her clawed hand for an interjection and Tivon felt a pang of guilt when he realized that he all but trailed after Sgileas without looking back toward his friends. He felt like he was being swept along, a tide to a moon that had no power over its own rise or fall. That power...it was _incredible,_ and not that he noticed its pull and tag almost _terrifying._ “I have to head to Lion's Arch. Rytlock is expecting me.”

“You won't be joining us?”, Tivon asked and felt even worse.

“I'll come with you.”, Braham offered and Rox gave him a grateful nod.

“And I'll put out my feeler with what friends I have left at the Ministry and around Divinity's Reach. Maybe someone knows something about Scarlet that we don't know yet.”, Majory said, and Tivon realized that she too was leaving, which meant that Kasmeer would go as well. For a moment he considered going with Rox and Braham, but the eyes of Sgileas' were on them, watching, and he would do more good here than tagging along to speak with Rytlock.

“Then we'll meet up in Lion's Arch.”, Tivon suggested. “Once we're done with...well, whatever it is we're doing.”

“Gathering information.”, Sgileas said for him, who looked at the group from over his shoulder. He had come to a halt, waiting patiently for the group to finish their business.

“Take care, Tiv.”, Rox warned. “Scarlet might have put up some traps.”

“Nothing I can't disable.”, Tivon grinned. “See you.”

He waved and watched them march through the snow, feeling a little...abandoned. They had been so close all this time, glued together at the hip, it was strange to be left with the _Commander._

Sgileas watched and waited, the snow tangling in the ferns atop his head, the cold gust blowing his robe around his body. “Come on.”, he finally said and Tivon turned his head, looking like he was still trying to decide what to do, but he fell in after his steps when he began to move. “Your name was...Tivon?”, Sgileas asked against the blow of the harsh wind.

“Yeah. And this is Derry, and Vail and...well.”, Tivon hesitated for a moment, blinking at the Karka that clung to his shoulder tightly, and missed the scrutinizing gaze Sgileas gave his pets, especially the lingering and squinting of his eyes when he looked at Derry. When he looked up again Sgileas met his eyes and he chuckled a little helpless, “I haven't figured out a name for the Karka yet.”

Sgileas didn't answer. If anything he seemed slightly annoyed that Tivon was babbling and he cursed himself inwardly when they continued their march toward the caves below, the hatch marked by the priory members before-hand, making it easier to navigate and find Scarlet's secret lair.

“Let me.”, Sgileas murmured and was about to move forward when Tivon dared (he didn't even know how he summoned the courage to do it) to gesture for him to wait.

“If there are traps ahead I can disable them.”, Tivon offered and Sgileas studied him for a moment, eyes drifting from his head down to his toes as if he saw him for the first time. There was a moment of silence before Sgileas straightened and then gestured ahead.

“Be my guest.”

Excitement prickled on Tivon's skin and he grinned, feeling giddy and anxious. This was a chance to prove himself...of sorts. It felt almost surreal when he heard Sgilea's footsteps behind him as they entered the darkness of the cave, the stone icy cold under Tivon's soles, and he snatched a cold, burned out torch from a holster on the wall and lighted it.

The light flickered to life, casting moving and dancing shadows over them as they moved, but despite the soft sound of their boots and feet and paws there was no other noise. The cave widened up ahead and Tivon could make out furniture in the distance, tables and shelves and tons of paper that was scattered on the ground.

He stood still for a moment, letting his eyes glide over the surroundings. Just at the entrance he saw a spike trap, covered by the many scattered pieces of paper and pieces of wood and knelt down carefully, working with deft, quick hands to disable it, and only when he held the pieces in his hand and rose to his feet did he give Sgileas a green light to proceed.

“It's safe.”, he murmured and without a word Sgileas brushed past him, letting his dark eyes scan over the many papers that lay scattered on the ground as well as the table. A book lay atop a table and Tivon made his way toward the back of the room, letting his eyes wander over the powered-down holographic screen. When he tapped a button into the panel it flickered to life, a single line appearing, requiring a password for him to continue.

“Look at this.”, Sgileas murmured and Tivon turned his head and saw the Commander glance over the contents of an old, worn book where many, many pages had been torn out, the sides scribbled an drawn on. There was one page at the very back that showered a tree strangled by throned red vines, and Tivon felt his throat tightening at the image.

“Is that...Is that the Pale Tree?”, Tivon breathed, almost feeling nauseas at the thought that anyone could bear such _hatred_ toward their mother.

“Could be.”, Sgileas said. “But that is not all.” The Necromancer gave Tivon the book and he skipped through the pages.

_**Dated Season of the Colossus, 1321** _

_I wake from nightmares—screaming, confused, and scared. It's getting wOrse._

_I've decided to talk to a mender. I've probably just been working too hard._

_**Dated Season of the Zephyr, 1322** _

_Every night, the same terrors. It never changes. The mender was unable to help Me, and I feel like I'm losing control of myself._

_**Dated Season of the Phoenix, 1322** _

_When the nightmare starts, an entity calls to me. I run—run into a sea of dArkness. But no matter how hard I try to escape, it keeps calling me._

_**Dated Season of the Scion, 1322** _

_I'm trying not to sleep—too scareD to even close my eyes... So scared. Whispers come from the forest all night long, calling me, taunting me, possessing me._

_**Dated Season of the Colossus, 1322** _

_Tonight, I saw it. I stared into the abyss, anD it stared back at me. So much power. I don't know what's real and what isn't anymore._

_**Dated Season of the Zephyr, 1323** _

_Control of my world, of myself, is slipping through my hands. And yet, I'm no longer scared._

_**Dated Season of the Scion, 1323** _

_It communicated with me through images of death, destruction, and destiny. I must know more. I must confront it and put an end to this madness._

“These...why are these misspelled?”, Tivon frowned, question asked for to himself than Sgileas. He scanned over the words once again and... “Omadd?”

“You are not as dumb as you look.”, Sgileas said and took the book from his fingers, and Tivon blinked up at him in confusion.

“Ah...”, he made and stuttered unsure, “Thank you?”

Sgileas closed the book and threw it aside where it slapped onto the table with a loud noise and made his way toward the turned off holographic screen that had come to life after Tivon had attempted to start the thing up. With a quick movement of his hand he typed in the word “OMADD” and the screen actually lightened up, buzzing to life.

“Oh.”, Tivon made and stepped closer. “These are...” Tivon lifted his hand and touched the glass covering the screen. The screen were split and each showed a different image, or rather, they all showed maps with different emphasize on certain locations, all maps of Tyria, especially the Krytan region.

“These must be the locations for her probes.”, Tivon murmured and pointed at the screen where dots of different sizes marked locations. “By the Pale Tree, I didn't know they were so many.”

“These are the ones the priory mentioned in the Bloodtide Coast.”, Sgileas nodded in agreement and pointed toward the three that had begun stirring trouble in the Bloodtide Coast. Tivon had only heard of the trouble there, but hadn't had the time to join in on the effort. “These red crosses...they are the base of operation of the orders, and a large marker on Lion's Arch.”

A shiver went over Tivon's spine when he realized that Sgileas was right. He saw the Vigil Keep, the Durmand Priory and...the third one had to be the Order of Whispers. He had not known their base was on a small island just outside of Lion's Arch. “She might be targeting the orders directly.”, he murmured.

“With _this_ , perhaps.”, Sgileas motioned toward the last screen where they could see a blueprint of what looked like a massive drill.

“What does Scarlet need a drill for?”, Tivon asked and frowned.

“Whatever she is looking for, none of this is by chance. Here.”, Sgileas thrust a piece of paper into his hand where various races had been painted in two columns, connected by red lines. Most of them had been crossed out and discarded, whereas only the lines remained that had in the end become Alliances.

“So...what now?”, Tivon asked. Usually he had a faint idea of where to go, what to do, but now... Having someone as experienced and strong leading the way was comforting.

“All of this gives us no clear indication of a target. If Scarlet knew the location of the Orders, even the one of the Order of Whispers, then she could have struck there if she wished. This information is nothing if not a warning that we must be cautious and warn these locations. Which is a danger in itself.”

“What, why?”, Tivon asked and lifted his gaze.

“Imagine you are the Vigil. If you knew someone came to attack your base of operations, what would you do?”, Sgileas asked.

“I would reinforce the Vigil Keep and station my soldiers there – Oh.”

“Yes, “Oh”.”, Sgileas made. “The Orders will want to protect their own, calling in their forces. We will be scattered, and the Lionguard will have no one to assist them. They are the weakest of these forces.”

“So what do we do?”, Tivon asked.

“We warn them despite the danger that poses. I will not keep such information to myself, and we must inform the Pact.” Sgileas studied the screen once more. “It is curious that Scarlet did not put a marker on Fort Trinity.”

“That doesn't mean it isn't a target.”, Tivon sighed.

“Indeed. I will make the necessary arrangements and warn the Orders and the Pact. I will meet up with you in Lion's Arch once I am done.”

“Y-you are coming?”, Tivon stuttered, surprised.

Sgileas raised and eyebrow at him. “I _lead_ the Pact forces.”

Tivon realized he meant the reinforcements that would come to aid Lion's Arch, should anything happen, and he almost slapped himself. “Ah, of course. I just...”

“You are a bit of an idiot, aren't you?”, Sgileas asked, but there was less barb and heat in it than Tivon would have thought and...and....was Sgileas actually _smiling?_ Tivon felt the heat rush into his cheeks up to his ears and gulped, was reminded of the sylvari telling him, too, that he was an _adorable idiot._

 _Not the time_ , he told his mind and the warmth that memory conjured thrummed through his body and he quickly averted his eyes. “Yeah, I...”, Tivon stuttered. “I get that a lot.”

“Good.”, Sgileas said and that startled Tivon, but before he could ask what he meant by that Sgileas continued, “That which we are can not hurt us.”

Tivon opened his mouth. Closed it. Gulped. Then, ever so slowly, even though Sgileas probably didn't expect an answer, “I think I get it.”

Sgileas mouth twitched, but it wasn't really a smile, just the hint of it. “Then why are you still here?”

Tivon flushed and quickly said, “Ah, yes, of course.” and was already turning away, jogging outside again and even though the wind was harsh and cold, biting at his skin, he barely felt it. He was smiling, all to himself.

 _That which we are can not hurt us_.

Others might call him an idiot, but so long as he _knew_ who he was, _what_ he was, they could never use that against him. It was a small piece of wisdom, given to him from someone he'd never thought he'd actually meet, and the sheer joy of it made the smile turn into a grin and his feet crunched accelerated through the snow, leaving Lonar's Pass behind.

  


“Hey, Braham!”, Tivon called from across the small sandy beach and the massive norn turned around toward him. He had his arms folded, his face looked somewhat sour and Tivon wondered what had happened and why Rox wasn't with him, why instead there was a small asuran girl standing right beside him.

“Well, you're fast.”, Braham commented when Tivon came to a halt just before him, having never once stopped to jog. Tivon grinned at that. I'm still stirred up by that fight. You?”

“Yeah!”, Tivon beamed. “I could go again. “

“See? That's why you and me are friends.”, Braham grinned back at him. “We're the ones should be doing something about Scarlet. What's the plan?”

“For now, we gather information. The Commander and I found some maps in her secret lair, but the targets are...scattered. Indecisive.”

“If we could figure out where she's gonna strike next, we could get ahead of her. She's been one step ahead of us all along.”, Braham grumbled and sighed, his eyes looking over when a figure came through the stone arc and Tivon saw Rox, but when Rox saw them she turned away, barely even acknolwedging that Tivon was there. Braham let out a hissing breath.

“Are you mad at Rox?”, Tivon asked.

“No…”, Braham said quickly and then, “...maybe. She wants to go off and be in the Stone warband, but if she does, we'll never see her again. I just don't get it. Why does she want to go be with a tribune who has no time for her and a bunch of old, crusty soldiers who don't know her?”

“I hear it's a big deal for charr. She's been a gladium for a while now. If it makes her happy...”, Tivon trailed off and Braham waved the comment away with his large, gloved hand. Tivon could see that Braham didn't want to speak of it. “So, what's going on with you and your little friend?”, Tivon asked instead and nodded toward the small asuran girl that was hovering close by her golem.

“My little...”, Braham asked and followed his gaze. “Oh, the asuran ragamuffin? I've never seen her before, She must have heard Rox say my name. She tricked that Seraph into thinking I was her guardian.”

Tivon held back his chuckle, but only barely. “You're not?”

“No. I've never seen her before. She's not my…”, when he saw Tivon giving him a knowing smile he groaned. “...aw crud. Not you too. All right. I'll make sure she gets home safe. But just this once.”

“You're a good friend.”, Tivon grinned.

“She's not my friend.”, Braham argued feebly.

“Uh-huh.”, Tivon made and Braham raised his hands in the air in exasperation, muttering to himself and walking over toward the small asura and Tivon followed, felt the scrutinizing gaze the asura gave him almost pierce him. She was...small. _Very_ small.

“Hi hi hi. Are you a friend of Braham's? I am. Or rather, I will be. Soon.”, she grinned.

“Where are you from?”, Tivon chuckled and tried to ignore the roll of Braham's eyes.

“I'm from Rate Sum. It's a city in the southwest of Metrica Province. All the asura live there. You do realize I'm an asura, right?”

“Of course.”, Tivon said.

“Phew.”, she made, and that grin was almost unnerving. “I thought maybe you were one of those slow sylvari. The smart ones are so rare, really. I wouldn't have blamed you. Hey! What's your name?”

He couldn't help it. He laughed and shook his head, couldn't found even a single fibre in him that felt offended, not when she was clearly trying so hard to be a pain. She seemed to relish his reaction and her smile turned more genuine. “I'm Tivon.”, he introduced himself.

“Zap! Nice name.”, she grinned “I'm Taimi.”

“It's nice meeting you.”; Tivon added with a smile. “But what are you doing here?”

“She's rhapsodising about Scarlet.”, Braham's voice cut in, and he looked more like a disapproving father than he would most likely like to admit.

“Did I hear right? You're curious about Scarlet?”, Tivon asked and looked surprised.

“Most definitely.”, the asura girl beamed and her eyes gleamed. “She's sparky. I drool when I think about everything she could teach me. Have you seen her mechamagical creations? Alchemagical bonanza!”

“She'd kill you without a second thought.”, Tivon frowned.

“Me? Inconceivable.”, she shrugged. “She'd recognize my potential and would mold me into her favorite assistant. Then, I'd learn more than her, and I'd surpass her. She'd die old and sad, but I'd be amazing!”

Tivon exchanged a glance with Braham and the big norn shrugged his shoulders. “Just...be careful.”, was all Tivon could say and then turned away, shacking his head at the mere thought that someone could have such a crazed line of thought. Perhaps that was it's own kind of crazy.

Tivon let his eyes wander and was surprised to see Majory and Kasmeer, sitting side by side near the water and... Tivon couldn't help but wonder if the two women were actually together. They were so close, leaning toward one another, but not really touching, and Tivon wondered only briefly if he even should get closer or just leave them alone, but then again he needed to tell them what he had found and he reluctantly stepped over the sand, breaking their solemnity just the slightest.

Majory noticed him first and glanced up at him with a welcoming smile. “Hello cutie.”, she greeted him. “What's the plan?”

Why was he suddenly the one with a plan? “We found some locations Scarlet might target. It's the Orders' headquarters, as well as Lion's Arch. The Commander is getting reinforcements from the Pact and then...well, if its got anything to do with that airship that's gone missing, I think we'll try tracking it down and finally corner Scarlet.”

“I'll see what my friends can find out about that airships location.”, Majory nodded and gave Kasmeer a glance. Tivon follower her gaze and hesitantly crouched down beside her, noticing how melancholic and swept away the mesmer looked.

“Are you alright?”, Tivon asked and placed a hand on her shoulder and Kasmeer looked up at him and sighed.

“Don't mind me.”, she shrugged. “I'm in a foul mood today.”

“Is something wrong?”, Tivon continued to ask.

She hesitated for a moment before her eyes met his. “I'm ashamed to say, but since it's you, I guess it's okay. He was stabbed while in debtor's prison, paying the price for my brother's foolishness.”

“Your brother?”

“Kyle. He lost all his money and more gambling with criminals in Lion's Arch. My father spent our entire fortune to pay them off so they wouldn't kill him. The Ministry Guard came to the house and took him away, along with all our belonging. Now, a minister lives there.”

Tivon blinked at that and didn't know what to say. He knew so very little of human customs and tradition, but this...this was just cruel. “They took everything?”, he asked.

“They let me keep what I was carrying and wearing, which meant I was able to keep my staff. It had been in my family for generations, on my mother's side. All else was lost—except the stuffed bear.”

“I...I'm sorry for your loss, Kasmeer.”, Tivon said, but knew how little his words would do to alleviate the kind of pain she must feel.

“It's...”, she sighed and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Tiv.”

He smiled at her as reassuring as he could and then erected himself, feeling like he had intruded on the both of them long enough. “I'll go check on Rox.”

“You do that.”, Majory smiled up at him and he could see her worried glance toward Kasmeer. Yes, it was best he left the two of them alone. Behind him he could hear Majory consoling her. “Oh, Kas. Shhhh. It's okay. Listen, honey. Why don't you stay with me tonight? You shouldn't be alone.”

“I'm afraid I'll never want to leave.”, said in a low, weak voice.

“I won't let you.”, Majory murmured, and Tivon was glad he was out of earshot now. Sometimes having good hearing didn't pay off.

Rox was standing close to where Rytlock was, and she looked like she was torn between excited and rueful. When he approached her she seemed to lighten up a bit. “So, what're we going to do about Scarlet?”

“We're going to find her.”, Tivon said. “We found some maps with targets marked on them in Scarlet's secret lair. It's the Orders' headquarters, as well as Lion's Arch, but we can't be sure where she'll strike. We still know too little.”

“I know she apprenticed with an Iron Legion blacksmith named Asagai. She was ancient at the time, though, and no one has seen her for some time. My guess is she went out for her final patrol.

“Final patrol?”, Tivon asked.

“It's when an aging or badly mutilated soldier knows she's going to die soon. She goes out for one final patrol so she can die in battle, defending what she loves. ”

“Sounds...lonely.”, Tivon murmured, but Rox shrugged.

“It's an honorable path.”

“Speaking of life choices...”, Tivon said and tilted his head. “Braham's mad at you?”

“He doesn't want me to join the Stone warband. He thinks he'll never see me again.”, she grumbled and averted her eyes, a fury gleaming in them...and a deep sense of melancholy.

“Will we?”, Tivon asked hesitantly. “See you again, I mean?”

“I'll be busy, sure.”, Rox admitted. “They'll have missions and tasks for me. But I'll be able to take leave sometimes to visit. And if you need help, I'll be there if I can. I can't predict where I'll be or what I'll be doing. You know? I can't…promise.”

The whole topic seemed to take its toll on her and he could her waging war with the decision in her head and knew how tearing it must be to make such a decision. He didn't want to pour more salt into and open wound and slowly nodded instead. “I understand.”, he said, but the words sounded hallow, even to himself. “We'll be friends, no matter what.”

She smiled ruefully. “Thanks Tiv.”

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder for reassurance and turned his head when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps in the sand. When he turned his head he saw Sgileas approaching, moving like a dark, lithe shadow, the movements of his body fluid.

“I've informed the Pact and the Orders.”, Sgileas informed him. “It is time we reviewed all that we know about Scarlet.”

As if drawn toward him Majory suddenly appeared. “I've asked my friends in the Priory to gather all that they could at the Dead End.” Kasmeer slowly made her way toward them and stood beside her, and Tivon could see the slight red of her eyes from tears.

“Good.”, Sgileas nodded. “Then let us waste no more time.”

When Sgileas moved toward the portals, all of them except Braham and Taimi followed, and Tivon realized that he was not the only one drawn to the Commander of the Pact. It was a force unlike any other, as if standing in the sylvari's shadow alone would keep them safe and treading the right path – wherever it lead.

The thought came as a great comfort and with a last wave to Braham, who reluctantly stood beside Taimi, he too followed the Commander's footsteps.

 


	12. The Edge of the Mists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some really cute dialogue between Braham and Taimi where they bond wonderfully, but I couldn't find a place to include it. Perhaps it'll come as a flashback in future chapters, we'll see.  
> I try to stay one chapter ahead so that when I am too busy I always have stuff for you - like this time. Real life sure likes to keep one busy.  
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Have fun reading, Seruna out! :D

The bar called the Dead End was cosy and small. A bar was to the left, a few chairs and tables that were empty and abandoned, and in the far corner was a small hearth burning with a fire that flicker and crunched with a soft noise. Kasmeer and Majory were already present, and Tivon could hear Kasmeer as he entered.

“Lace curtains _here,_ line tablecloths _there_ , and a sign at the front that says, “Delaqua Investigations, or-”

“Stop.”, Majory interrupted curtly. “No curtains. No tablecloths, and most of all, no sign.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Buuut-”, Kasmeer tried again and Majory quickly relented,

“Okay, maybe curtains, but only if they're black.”

Kasmeer sighed dramatically. “I can see you're tired and cranky. We'll talk about it some other time.” Just as Kasmeer lifted her gaze she saw Tivon approach and smiled at him. “Ah, hello.”

Derry rushed toward the hearth and curled in front of the fire, a happy grin upon the hounds jaw. Vail found a small resting place atop the hearth on a small advance, and Tivon envied them a little that they could so easily relax at a time like this.

“You're a sight for sore eyes.”, Majory smiled as well. There was always an undertone in Majory's voice, and Tivon knew that she liked to tease, but even that knowledge didn't help when he felt warmth spread into his cheeks in a flush.

Before he could embarrass himself by stammering anything, the door behind him opened and Rox came through, Frostbite skittering over the wooden floor in front of her as she ushered the little devourer inside.

“Rox, come in. Join us, please.”, Kasmeer greeted and Rox waved as she came toward them, and she too sat down in front of the hearth, her massive bulky body taking up a lot of space, especially with Frostbite beside her. But neither Derry nor Vail made any protests at all, except when Frostbite tried to pinch Derry. The hound made a noise and jumped to his feet, ferns bristling before he moved away slightly to make space, and then curled in on himself once again.

Once Rox had settled Majory seemed to turn more serious. “Long time no see. You should hear what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”, Rox asked with a frown.

“Scarlet's probe in Lion's Arch turned green.”

There was a short pause in which Tivon opened his mouth and closed it again. He was not sure what to make with that information. “I don't like the sound of that.”, he murmured, and Majory nodded gravely. “What do you reckon it means? That she found something, whatever it was those probes were meant to find?”

“Once we skim through all this evidence,” Majory gestured with her chin toward the various items that were lain out all over the tables and the bar, “We might be smarter for it. Where's the Commander?”

“He told me to go on ahead. I am sure he'll be here any second.”, Tivon shrugged. “Where's Braham?”

“Last I heard he was hot on the trail of that asuran cub Taimi. She apparently went through a portal to the Mists, chasing Mai Trin.”

“Mai Trin escaped?”, Tivon breathed and remembered the females furious face, the glimmer of a pistol aimed right at his chest, magic weaving into the air protectively.

Rox nodded gravely. “Shortly after we left, Aetherblade struck the prison and bailed her out.”

“Thorns and brambles.”, Tivon cursed. “You think Braham needs our help?”

“He's tough.”, Rox grinned at him. “He can look after himself.”

Tivon felt the tingling in his fingers. He didn't like to think that his friend was stuck somewhere with enemies nearby, especially with such a reckless asuran child that apparently didn't know any better, even though it _should_.

But Rox was right. Braham was tough, and Tivon trusted that the Norn could look after himself. There had been many times when he had saved Tivon's life, or at least prevented injury, and it was this knowledge that gave him confidence enough to agree and nod. “Yeah, you are right.”

There was an awkward silence slowly settling over them, and Rox eyes glided toward Kasmeer and Majory. “Soo.”, she made. “How did you two meet?” The question was directed at Majory and Kasmeer, and the two cast each other a glance. Tivon crouched down beside Derry and scratched the hounds neck, the ferns sifting through his fingers.

“About six months ago, I was just minding my own business and...”, Majory began, and Kasmeer chirped in,

“She'd posted a "Help Wanted" sign. And I was looking for help.”

“So you met only six months ago?”, Rox asked with raised eyebrows. “It seems like you've been together longer.”

“I'd noticed her before that—around the city.”, Majory confessed.

“You had?”, Kasmeer said in surprise and glanced at Majory. “You never told me that.”

“So...you're a mated pair?”, Rox asked cautiously, and Tivon tried very hard not to look up to see their reactions. Kasmeer laughed nervously, whereas Majory was the one to answer with a chuckle,

“We're currently in negotiations.”

The two of them had made eyes at one another, and after what Tivon had overheard in Lion's Arch he'd thought that the two of them might be together. Not that it was any of his business who was together with who, but... It was fitting, he mused. The two were close, they complimented one another. Kasmer was bight, and cheerful, and her smile was sparkling, and Majory was dark, mysterious and sarcastic, but she showed she cared, _deeply_ , and it came to no surprise the two had felt drawn to one another.

Rox smiled and then glanced down at Frostbite who had scooped closer to Tivon, dark, gleaming eyes staring up wonderingly and adoringly toward his shoulder where the Karka sat, and Tivon felt the Karka shift nervously.

“C'mere, Frostbite.”, Rox ordered gently, and the devourer obliged, with a bit of a hesitant delay. Tivon chuckled at that. Once the Karka could walk, he was sure that it and Frostbite would get along famously. Perhaps it was because they both had a hardened shell that they seemed to get along.

“What about you, Rox?”, Kasmeer asked. “Anyone special in your life?”

There was a pregnant pause, and Tivon saw Rox eyes glace over. “No. There was once, but he was killed.”

“I'm sorry.”, Kasmeer murmured. “Was he in your old warband? Braham said you're a gladium.”

Rox stared at frostbite, her clawed hand moving over the devourer's shell idly. “Braham talks too much.”, she shrugged.

“Don't be mad. We're your friends.”, Kasmeer said, and her voice was cheerful, eliciting, even.

“Yeah, what are friends for, if not for sticking our noses in each other's business?”, Majory chirped in with a smile, but Rox didn't answer. It felt...rigid, to say the least, and Tivon was almost glad when the door opened and Sgileas came stalking in, all attention immediately shifting toward the sylvari as if drawn by a magnet.

“I am sorry for my delay.”, Sgileas said curtly as he approached, and Tivon gulped down the nauseating feeling that welled up from his gut. The aura wafted through the air, permeating it, and it was such a _powerful_ force Tivon felt as if a fist closed around his body tightly. _By the Pale Tree_ , he had felt that before, that power, that aura, not quite in this manner, but...differently and he couldn't remember where.

He lifted himself to his feet and Majory and Kasmeer made their way behind the bar. With a quick flick of her hand Majory turned on a small device and a hologram flickered to life. “Then let's get started.” Majory said and leaned her elbows down on the counter, dark eyes mustering the projection that slowly formed into the silhouette of an asura. “I also called in Vorpp, the Arcane Council's point person. He's collaborating with us remotely.”

There was a holographic projection of the asura and Tivon marvelled at the detail of it, even though from time to time it stuttered, but the voice was clear with very little static. “These recordings were found near Scarlet's lab in Lornar's Pass. You should listen to them first.”, Vorpp said and gestured toward a small pad that Tivon took into his hands. “These other items are all pieces of the puzzle. Examine each one, and let us know how you think it fits.”

A small holographic projection of Scarlet appeared and Tivon tried to hide the tension that immediately wound up his body like a spring. “You've seen me through my awakening, Mender Serimon. Thank you. But I am awake now, and you can leave me alone.”

“A rebel from the start.”, Tivon murmured when another sequence started.

“Synergetics is endlessly fascinating. It seeks to define the Eternal Alchemy. The other colleagues work within that definition. The potential of golems interests me. Combining Dynamics design with Statics versatility makes just about anything possible.”

There was another short pause and Tivon tilted his head, noticed that while he had been staring and listening intently Sgileas had come up beside him, arms folded in front of his chest, and Tivon craned his neck to look up at the sylvari. He looked every bit as dark as he did in the daylight in the dim environment of the small pub, but here the luminescent glow of his pattern began to show on his bark. Lines woven over the skin gleamed purple, whereas Tivon looked more like a small lightbulb, gilded lines shining with a yellow hue.

“I like Teyo.”, Scarlet's hologram continued. “More importantly, I need to advance my theories quickly. And nobody's better at quick results than the inquest.”

 _Did I mention that I hate the grubby Inquest?_ , the faint memory of Kiel in the Aetherblade Base came into his mind and he sighed.

“Today will be monumental. With Omadd's support, I shall finally see past this world and into the Eternal Alchemy.”

The recording stopped and the small holographic image of Scarlet flickered and then vanished, leaving nothing but the small, red pulse of the object in Tivon's hands. There was another recording device on the table and he placed the other down diligently, afraid of breaking anything (Sometimes he could abandon all the deftness and nimble attributes he possessed and be clumsy, so much so that someone would doubt he could place one foot in front of the other) and lifted the other high enough that Sgileas could see as well.

“The moles get magic. Flame gets gear, and I get the weaponry I need. Everybody wins...Especially me.”

That explained the Molten Alliance to some extend at least. But what kind of weaponry did she need? And what for?

“Lion's Arch needs softening up first, so we infiltrate its halls of power and neuter its defenses from the inside.”

“From inside?”, Tivon asked but Sgileas gave him a sharp look that made him keep quiet.

Scarlet's projection continued, “The theme is “humanity can withstand any test”. It's like they're begging me to prove they're wrong. It's laughable!” The last was followed with a hysterical laugh Tivon knew all too well and he took a deep breath when memories of the Queen's Jubilee as well as the arena resurfaced. If only he had ended it back then...“Air superiority wins wars. So build be a comparable fleet, or I'll kill you all and replace you with holos.”

That was most definitely aimed at the Aetherblade pirates. How she had managed to intimidate them enough was beyond him.

“Once more, my esteemed snaky friend: You're doing this for obelisk shards. You want direct access to your prophets, right? Then do as I say.”

Manipulating the Krait into allowing the alliance with the Nightmare Court... To play with their beliefs for such a notorious goal – a goal Tivon didn't even _know_ yet.

“Scarlet deceived each of them into thinking they'd gain something from working for her. Hmm. She'd make a great minister.” Kasmeer murmured from behind the bar and Tivon looked up at her.

“Play the next one.” Sgileas instructed and Tivon wondered why the sylvari kept ignoring anything Kasmeer said as if she wasn't there, but he obliged and pressed the blinking button on the next holographic recording.

“Ever since I came out of Omadd's machine, you've been taking credit for my ideas. They are mine! Not yours.”

Scarlet sounded frustrated, _angry_ even. Plagiarism was something asura did on occasion, a risk that they all knew and tried to avoid, but forming work-relationships meant offering pieces of information, _sensitive_ information, if one put trust in the wrong person... Was this what had changed Scarlet? A mentor or friend that had gone behind her back? Betrayal?

“Let me be clear: I am not doing this for you; I'm doing it for me. Nobody tells me what to do. Not. Ever.”

Was that directed at Omadd? Tivon couldn't tell.

“It's not true. None of it. I don't have to listen to you. Get out of my head!”

Voices in her head. Tivon remembered her diary, the scribbles on the paper telling of this. Had she gone mad in that machine?

“I wonder if the voices in her head are real? What if what she saw in Omadd's machine grabbed hold of her? Scarlet rejected the Pale Tree because she wanted independence. What if Omadd's machine cost her that? Ironic that she rejected the Pale Tree to exert her independence, only to lose it to something else.”

“The Pale Tree is no anchor.”, Sgileas snapped. “Speak not of things that you do not understand.”

Tivon looked at him in surprise, could see the anger in Sgileas' body clear as day. Tense shoulders, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly, fingers curling into fists. It was clear that the Necromancer was very protective of the Pale Tree – and that he had a devotion to her that Tivon had never seen before.

Majory didn't answer. All that she did was meet Sgileas' eyes and she held them for an agonizingly long time, long enough that the air began to fill with a chill that grew throughout the room.

“I am sure,” Tivon quickly cut in and stepped in between, breaking whatever had woven in between the two, “That Majory meant no offense. Let's concentrate on the rest of the evidence.”

Sgileas _glared_ at Majory, but when his eyes shifted toward Tivon they softened. They were cold still, but it was clear Sgileas knew who his anger was aimed at – and that it wasn't Tivon who should suffer under his gaze. “Yes. Let's.”, Sgileas answered curtly.

“These spores are from the Tower of Nightmares?”, Tivon asked and pointed at a toxic spore contained in a small glass jar, and Majory nodded.

“I'll never forget how close we came to disaster. When I think about those spores spreading their toxin all across Tyria, it boils my blood.”

“The Nightmare Court and Krait do make a volatile combination. Scarlet popped some horrifying alchemy there. Why would she do such a thing?”

“It is too early for a definite answer.”, Sgileas cut in, his voice sharp as glass. “Assumptions will bring us no further. I was under the impression you found the anti-toxin. Can we test it on this sample?”

Majory moved and dropped something into the glass jar, but it was ineffective. “This sample is resistant to the anti-toxin we used against the Nightmare Tower poison.”

“Jory we didn't stop her plan.”, Kasmeer said, suddenly frightened. “We just showed her how to make a stronger poison that could wipe out an entire city.”

“We destroyed the tower.”, Tivon argued. “We couldn't have just sat back and done nothing. The tower needed to be destroyed, and we needed the anti-toxin for that to work.”

“Kasmeer is right.”, Sgileas said, much to Tivon's surprise, because up until now the Necromancer had all but ignored the mesmer, and even Kasmeer looked startled. “But we are not here to point fingers. What is that pile of scrap metal?”

“This?”, Kasmeer asked and looked down at the small pile that lay spread out right in front of her. “It's wreckage from a Steam Creature.”

“If you examine it closely, you can identify similarities to Scarlet's clockwork machines in its design.”, Majory murmured and nodded with her chin toward the pile.

“It's like she's modified the Watchknights with the same engineering”, Kasmeer pondered and Sgileas sighed, barely audible, but Tivon could feel the annoyance permeate the air around him.

“These steam creatures have been around for a while and we've pondered their origins with no success.”, Vorpp suddenly said and Tivon turned to face the asura, had almost forgotten that he was there. “Now, it seems we have our first clue.”

“Scarlet was able to seize control of Queen Jennah's watchknights.”, Tivon remembered. “She also managed to twist them somehow.”

“What are you suggesting?”, Vorpp frowned at him.

“Either the Queen hired Scarlet to have her make these Watchknights, the Queen modelled her Watchknight after these,” Sgileas nodded toward the pile of scrap metal from a steam creature, “or that Scarlet's attention shifted once the humans began creating the Watchknights.”

“There has to be a connection. The parts of the steam creature are similar to the Watchknights, and it seems to be the only plausible explanation how Scarlet gained control over them.”, Vorpp nodded thoughtfully. “Their obedience makes them perfect infantry units for assaulting a fortified location.”

“It's so like Scarlet to ruin someone's big day. Poor Queen Jennah, celebrating ten years of rule only to have it marred by killer automatons.”, Kasmeer murmured.

“Yes.”, Sgileas said and the roll of his eyes was audible. “Let us cry over a crashed party.”

“People _died_ that day.”, Kasmeer argued back, color rising high into her cheeks in a red flush.

“Because the Queen erred in her decision. Why were the Watchknights necessary? The Shining Blade and the Seraph Guard protected her for _ten years,_ even before that. She should have never relied on forces that were beyond her control. If you need to appeal to someone's bad conscience, start with Queen Jennah and work your way down from there.”

Kasmeer opened her mouth, but Majory placed a hand on her shoulder to pacify her and Kasmeer deflated somewhat, but she looked ready to snap any second now. Tivon felt the tension rise in the air like a static that tingled on his skin and he wondered if there was anything to alleviate the frustration that began to brew. He understood both sides – Kasmeers sympathy as well as Sgileas cold view of the Queen's misjudgement. He had thought the very same, he still did, but hadn't dared to voice it aloud, and he understood how easily such mistakes made by pride could be made and that if anyone was to be blamed, it was Scarlet.

“We knew Scarlet was moving behind the scenes.”, Majory said, her eyes drifting toward Tivon. He thought he imagined it, but when her eyes trailed to Sgileas for a split second, her eyes were cold like a splinter of ice. “But she chose to show herself in that moment. Why?”

“To get the Watchknights?”, Tivon said and felt a little helpless. “Perhaps it required her personal touch to get them.”

“The clockwork horrors from the Jubilee must have been Scarlet's second draft. Scarlet got crafty. Instead of pairing up two splinter factions, she stole an entire fighting force. And then she upped the ante with that giant marionette.”

“You don't need that kind of firepower unless... you're going to attack something really big.”, Kasmeer said hesitantly.

“Good.”, Sgileas said, his arms still folded in front of his chest.

“Really?”, Kasmeer said, eyebrows furrowed and her body on the defensive. What Sgileas had said before must have hurt her.

“Yes.”, Sgileas shrugged. “You now know what Tivon and I did hours ago.”

Kasmeer didn't even reply, even though she looked ready to burst at any moment. Whether it was tears or rage, Tivon couldn't tell, and all he could do was gulp the uneasiness that simply grew. “Um, this.”, he quickly said and pointed toward a cooling rod. “What's this?”

Majory jumped at the opportunity to change the topic and discharge some of the tension, her hand at the small of Kasmeer's back in a comforting gesture. “Priory teams recovered this cooling rod from the Thaumanova Reactor disaster. It's steeped in dragon magic.”

“The...what now?”, Tivon asked. He had heard of it before, but never any details.

“The Thaumanova Reactor accident was the worst asuran disaster in recent memory.”, Majory explained. “Ellen Kiel investigated it and discovered that Scarlet was involved – as a special consultant to the inquest.”

“Kiel?”, Tivon blinked in confusion. When had Kiel done that? Why hadn't she told him? It must have been because of the Dragon Bash incident. “What are her conclusions?”

“She believes Scarlet blew the place up to sow terror. One sleuth to another, that's too easy. If we theorize that all of Scarlet's move have been connected, she must have been after something. It says here in Kiel's report that Scarlet called the energy flowing into the reactor “Dragon Energy”. She also talked about the ley lines that criss-cross Tyria.”

“Ley lines?”, Tivon asked.

“They are channels through which magic flows. It is necessary for Tyria to sustain itself – like sap in our bark or blood in the human veins.”, Sgileas explained. “Dragon's such as Zhaitan feed on that energy, preventing it from overflowing.”

“Scarlet and the Inquest turned a risky research experiment into a time bomb so they could study how it ticked. They also discovered new info about ley lines. If Scarlet is using that info to plan her next major attack, it's coming soon.”, Majory said.

“And what's this?”, Tivon asked and pointed at a strange cube with markings on it that he could only identify as asuran equipment.

“This is Synergetics Headmaster Omadd's isolation module. A sylvari names Ceara went in; Scarlet came out. I reverse engineered an image of Ceara's aura patterns before and after. The schism is pronounced and dramatic.”

“What can you tell me about the module?”, Tivon asked, and wondered if he should ask the asura to keep it in as simple terms as possible, but didn't want to look foolish.

“His notes say its purpose was to shut down the mind's security system and open it – like opening a door – to welcome in the truths of the Eternal Alchemy. But our minds are protected for a reason.”

“So...when Scarlet looked upon the open threshold, she saw things...and something looked back?”

Vorpp nodded. “Ceara encountered something that literally broke her mind, but the only things in there were things she brought. I surmise she was directly exposed to a part of her own psyche that had been carefully walled off. Perhaps for her own protection?” There was a small pause in which Vorpp continued thoughtfully. “We'd need to do far more extensive study of the sylvari Dream before I could draw any more detailed conclusions.”

“You think...you think the Dream is responsible?”, Tivon asked.

“No.”, Sgileas cut in, voice sharp. “The Dream protects us. It was her disconnection from the Dream that made her vulnerable.”

Vorpp looked a bit fearful, afraid of Sgileas wrath, but the Necromancer seemed to have no anger to let out on the projection of the asura at all. Sgileas looked like he was lost in thought and Tivon took this chance to continue toward a piece of Aetherblade weaponry.

“Scarlet converted part of Nightmare Court abor into her own personal airship factory. She also tormented the sylvari firstborn, Caithe.”

At the mention of that name both Tivon's and Sgileas' head shot up, and the Necromancer frowned. “Caithe? She is involved in this?”, he almost hissed and Kasmeer nodded gravely.

“Scarlet formed this alliance in part to develop hybrid weapons with maximum destructive potential.”

“Have you spoken with Caithe?”, Majory asked. “I heard she's looking for Scarlet too – something about “Shutting that mouth”.”

Sgileas eyes narrowed and his interest seemed piqued. “What have you done now, Caithe?”, he murmured and his eyes glared at the ground as if the wooden floor had personally insulted him.

“You know her?”, Tivon asked and Sgileas slowly gazed up toward him, thoughts churning.

“She rarely gets involved unless it is a personal matter. If Scarlet had her fingers in Nightmare Court business, I am willing to bet it's got something to do with Faolain, but it was only a small fraction of the Nightmare Court that joined the alliance with the Krait – and it wasn't the notorious firstborn. So what could have lured Caithe there? Scarlet must know something that Caithe doesn't want anyone to know to lure her there.”

“Then we should talk to her, find out what it is.”, Tivon said and Sgileas sighed.

“If it were that easy to make that firstborn talk about anything _relevant_ I'd have found a way by now, but yes, we must consult her in this matter. First we continue this...there are still some items left.”

“Scarlet now has an arsenal of advanced weapons and and air fleet to deliver them. No city is prepared to defend against an aerial attack. Not even Lion's Arch.”, Kasmeer murmured and Tivon and Sgileas exchanged a glance. _Lion's Arch_ , Tivon thought, _Could that be her target?_ “Spores and toxin from the Toxic Alliance, weaponry and an air fleet from the Aethrblades...what did she gain from the Molten Alliance?”

“Sonic weaponry combined with flame magic. They repurposed dredge mining suits for use as charr battle armor.”, Majory answered her. “Dredge sonic technology can be used for probing underground.”

“And Scarlet's been looking for ley lines with those probes....”

There was a short moment in which Majory and Kasmeer exchanged a glance and then said in chorus, “She's after the ley lines under Lion's Arch!”

“Hm.”, Sgileas made and Tivon could see the Necromancer smiling as if he had known all along. Perhaps he had, and Tivon considered how quickly Sgileas had decided to bring in the Pact and move the forces to Lion's Arch. It was...a little overwhelming, to think that Sgileas had thought so far ahead.

When Sgileas noticed that Tivon was staring at him he gave the Ranger a knowing smile and Tivon felt the heat rush into his cheeks. “You knew?”, Tivon asked and Sgileas shrugged.

“I don't _know_.”, Sgileas said. “But it was the only plausible target. The three probes in Bloodtide Coast stirred the wurms underground, effectively creating a distraction for Lionguard forces. It is clear Scarlet intends to divide and conquer. To convince the Orders of that, however, is no easy task, especially since we have no absolute clarity. If we are wrong and one of the Order's headquarters is decimated, we'll be blamed. So we let them ease back toward their bases of operations – and deal with Lion's Arch ourselves.”

“That's...”, Tivon breathed in awe. “...wow.”

“There's also the matter of Mai Trin.”, Majory cut in. “It seems that Mai Trin escaped her prison in Lion's Arch. The Aetherblades got her out.”

“She seems essential to Scarlet if they go through all the trouble of getting her out before the attack. I had thought that after Mai Trin had failed to get the seat in the Captain's Council, she would be obsolete for Scarlet. It seems I was wrong.” There was a small pause in which Majory looked thoughtful. “She was supposed to be the influence from within.”

“Ah.”, Tivon made when finally Scarlets holographic message made sense. “But she failed...What use is she for Scarlet now?”

“Mai Trin escaped to the Mists to prepare for something.”

“The attack, most likely.”, Sgileas murmured and straightened. “What about the other prisoners?”

“There is no mention of other prisoners escaping with her, and the only one currently in Fort Mariner that we know is the Secondborn, Canach.”

“Perhaps I should talk with him.”, Tivon wondered aloud. “He might be able to tell us more about Mai Trin.”

“Alright.”, Majory nodded. “Then let's wrap up what we know. Ceara entered Omadd's device, saw something terrifying, and emerged as Scarlet Briar. She came out insane, but there's a method to her madness. We know from Thaumanova that he's researching magical energy and ley lines. She's used Molten Alliance magitech to locate ley lines. We know that there are ley lines in Lion's Arch, among other places. She's built her own personal army. Krait and Nightmare Court, pirates and Inquest, dredge and Flame legion, and most of all, her clockwork horrors. She tricked her subordinates into doing her bidding with promises of power, resources or other gains. She modified her poison to be resistant to our anti-toxin. She could use it against an army, or a city. Mai Trin is preparing the Aetherblades in the Mists for a big attack. There's a Mists Portal in Lion's Arch.”

“If Lion's Arch is her target we have to warn Ellen.”, Kasmeer said.

“I'll warn her.”, Majory reassured her. “I'll let you know when I hear back. Make your preparations. Everything has been building toward a single, devastating attack. May the God's show us mercy.”

If Lion's Arch was in danger that was where Tivon would have to be, and the anxiety prickled on his skin. His fingers curled around the bud dangling from the necklace, his mind lost in thought. He needed to warn the sylvari if things were quite as bad as they feared. Convince the sylvari to stay as far away as possible.

“I need to go.”, Tivon said and Derry lifted his head abruptly from his short nap, as if Tivon's words had been a command. Sgileas frowned at him, noticed the pale fingers as they curled around the small necklace that dangled from his neck. It was a gesture of comfort and reassurance, even if Tivon looked like it did little to ease any of his anxiety.

“Where to?”, Sgileas asked. It was obvious where _his_ place was: Lion's Arch. But he couldn't imagine where Tivon would suddenly rush off to, and the sudden change in behaviour was more than a little strange. Intriguing... and slightly puzzling.

 _Somewhere_ , Tivon thought helplessly and felt as if under the gaze of Sgileas dark eyes the Necromancer could easily pierce through, could see and read his mind. “I'll meet you in Lion's Arch.”, Tivon said instead, because that felt like it was the farthest away from any uncomfortable other sentence he could have produced.

Sgileas studied him for a moment and Tivon feared that the Necromancer would reach out and stop him, and he didn't know what he'd do then, but Sgileas relented and relaxed slightly, even if his eyes lost none of their scrutiny. “Meet me at Fort Marriner.”, was all Sgileas said and Tivon gave him a grateful nod and rushed toward the door, knew how _hurried_ he looked, but he couldn't help it. With the attack of Lion's Arch hanging over him and Sgileas scrutinising gaze boring into his back, he felt that _running_ was the only option he had.

Derry and Vail followed him easily enough, through the darkened streets and alleys. Tivon's eyes searched for a location, or a sign, _anything_ before he finally came to a halt near a small patch of nature that the humans seemed to cherish so much, his breath barely even labored. It was dark, sheltered from any eyes by the many trees that covered the place. With trembling fingers he reached for the bud and pulled a small petal from it and felt the magic prickling on his skin, familiar and odd at the very same time, like a warm shower of water cascading down his back.

When he turned the sylvari was brushing with a hand over the ferns covering his legs, his eyes lifting slowly to Tivon with that enigmatic smile that entranced Tivon even after all this time. The sylvari sauntered closer and lifted his hand, brushed with his fingers through the foliage atop Tivon's head tenderly and Tivon sighed at the comfort of the touch, the soft shiver that went over his bark. “Look at you.”, the sylvari chuckled. “All dishevelled and wild.”

He could get lost in this touch. It had been some time since he had seen the sylvari, and he remembered the touch as if it was imprinted on his bark. Heat formed in his abdomen at the memory and he leaned into the touch, cherishing each stroke of the sylvari hand through his hair, craning his neck and tilting his head into the touch with a sigh.

It would be so easy to forget, so easy to get lost the comfort of their connection, one that ran so deep the very presence of the sylvari was enough to calm the anxiety and the nervous pulse of his fibres, was enough to almost make him forget the pending danger they were in.

Danger. Lion's Arch. _Right_ , he reminded himself and opened his eyes abruptly. It brought Tivon back from his temporary daze and he grasped the sylvari's wrist gently, pulled it down and earnestly said, “Scarlet's going to attack Lion's Arch.”

The sylvari looked a bit dumbfounded by Tivon's sudden reaction and then tilted his head, revealing the crook of his neck and the lilly that was his ear when a leaf shifted and fell over his cheek. “Alright.”, he said carefully and then frowned, eyebrows furrowing together. “Why are you...” There was a small pause and then the sylvari seemed to understand, the gleam of it was in his eyes, the realization. “You are going to defend Lion's Arch.”

“Yes. The Pact will be there, and the Commander will be standing his ground against Scarlet's forces. I think I can help.”

“The...Commander.”, the sylvari repeated slowly. “The Commander of the Pact.”

“Yes.”, Tivon said again, nodding eagerly. “It...will be chaotic. You need to stay somewhere far away, best not to be near-”

“Tivon.”, the sylvari said sharply and Tivon was instantly quiet, felt the fingers of the sylvari curling around his wrists and the dark eyes lined with white almost glared down at him. “I am not going anywhere.”

“But...it's not safe.”, Tivon stuttered and the sylvari's grip tightened.

“And you expect me to leave you?”, the sylvari said in a hiss, head leaning down a bit further, pulling Tivon in tighter and the ranger's eyes widened.

“Ah, no, I just -”

A hand rose to cup his cheek and the urgency and gentleness of the touch brought the words in his mouth to falter. “I'll be there.”, the sylvari said, tone final, and this was the first time Tivon had seen him anywhere _near_ angry. He couldn't be sure if it was _anger_ or _urgency_ or something else, but it was there, written all over the sylvari's face.

By the Pale Tree, Tivon felt like he was about to burst with emotion. It filled his breast, warm and fuzzy, static that surged up into his fingers and made them feel numb. He just wanted...they both wanted the same thing, didn't they? “And I have to be there.”, Tivon said, voice suddenly calm but quiet, and the sylvari relaxed slightly almost as if resigning himself to the truth and a small, sad smile played on his lips.

“I know.”, he murmured and sighed. Tivon closed his eyes, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. This was too sweet and too tender and so comfortable he never wanted to leave, but he _had_ to. Lion's Arch, Sgileas... all those people. He could never pull away from that. “Tivon.”, the sylvari murmured, warm breath ghosting over his cheek and he shivered at the sensation, the voice low and husky.

“Yeah?”, he breathed back, was already leaning in, the force of attraction too strong and who was he kidding? He didn't want to resist, didn't want to pretend that this wasn't the best thing on Tyria itself because by the Pale Tree, it was. The arms of the sylvari slung around his back, pulled him closer, his hip pressing into the conjuncture of the sylvari's thigh and pelvis and Tivon's breath hitched at the contact.

The sylvari leaned down, lips just a breath away from his neck and Tivon leaned his head to the side, granting the sylvari access without even a second thought, the movement so completely natural and _open_ he couldn't help but draw in a ragged breath that stuttered in his chest. With a moments hesitation, hot breath over his skin, tingling, tickling, the sylvari kissed the bark there, lips moving gently and then, almost forceful, the sylvari bit down and Tivon made a startled noise that died in his throat and turned into long, dragged out moan when the sylvari's tongue glided over the bite. “ _Thorns._ ”, Tivon cursed, breath coming faster now, the warmth spreading in his belly, a comfortable heat that he knew very well.

“I'll be there.”, the sylvari promised against his skin and then Tivon felt it. Strong, weaving, wafting, _permeating_ -

Power.

A power that bristled and burst and boiled, pervading air and bark and fibre, sinking so deep inside him that the knots of his being shuddered at its intensity. It came from the sylvari, so _strongly_ Tivon's head began to swim and turn and he could do nothing but lift his hands feebly, fingers curling into the sylvari's shoulders to hang on as his legs turned into jelly.

This was... It was nothing like that intimidating corona that surrounded Sgileas. This was like an incense, a soft, warm breeze carrying the scent of spring, the soft thrum in the air as a harbinger for rain and thunder. Tivon leaned into it, drinking it in, his body singing to the magical influence as it engulfed him and he sighed contently, hands pressing into his back and pulling him in closer.

His mind was too dazed, too drunk on the feeling to be strong enough to argue that this meant that the sylvari was strong, no, _stronger_ than Tivon. That the magic was powerful and exalted and that it should worry him, but the part of his mind that protested was small and weak, and the suspicion drained away. It fell away like an old worn cloak, because Tivon _loved_.

He trusted and loved with all that he was, all that he had to give and here, right now, that was more than enough. To know that the sylvari was powerful enough to save himself if need be.

That the aura was just as strong as Sgileas', Tivon barely even registered.

 


	13. The Edge of the Mists: A Short Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Braham POV (mostly, there's a little from Taimi's side as well.)  
> I am SO glad I did this. Experiencing Braham was something I really enjoyed, especially getting into his character was like crocheting another colored thread into a cap. Yes, I crochet. Sometimes.  
> This is longer than I expected. I guess I am no good at writing short stories, haha.  
> Enjoy yourselves. Since this one is rather short I'll upload another chapter in just a bit - just going to scan over it and eliminate any errors that jump me just yet.  
> AND: More good news! Because I was talking to Lamshire about the whole Shade/Tivon/Sgileas thing, I think I found something that will work, especially with the new development from the Living Story (BRAHAM DON'T GO AGAIN PLEASE AND WHY DID THEY CHANGE ROX'S VOICE ACTOR AHHHHH), but that will be a different work and NOT in this one. Meaning there will be a story where all three of them come together. Sometimes I wish I had four hands to write everything down as fast as the ideas come.  
> Dear universe, my head is filled with this.  
> Enough ranting. Go enjoy yourselves! *shoves you forward*

Braham was sure the world hated him somehow. That in all this time he had done something to upset the delicate balance and now he was getting punished for it.

Tivon had been the very last indicator of such. “Uh-huh.”, the dainty sylvari had said, and Braham had felt the urge to smack off that shit-eating grin. Lightly, of course. He'd never hurt Tivon. Not on purpose, anyhow. There had been the occasional elbow during their fights with clockworks and krait and what-not, but Tivon had shrugged it off, even though he would rub the sore spot for days whenever he thought Braham wasn't looking.

Instead he lifted his arms in a gesture of resignation and stomped over toward the tiny asura who would have easily found comfort in one of his boots. She was so very small, Braham wondered if he'd trample her. Accidentally.

By the wolf, this day was not going to get any better, was it?

He listened to Tivon and Taimi only absent-mindedly, trying to form a plan in his head on how to shove the asuran girl through the next portal to Rata Sum when Tivon gave him once last glance and then walked over to Rox -

and Braham knew exactly what they were going to talk about.

He hated that abyss that had formed between him and the Charr. Ever since the whole mess of the Molten Alliance had glued them together to rescue those that had been captured, he'd come to rely on her expertise and skill, and now he missed her company.

But she wanted to go off. Off to some tribune who didn't care one furry butthole about her. A tribune that simply kept pushing and pushing and pushing her around like a rag-doll, and she still lapped up everything the Tribune threw at her like a mad, starved dog.

It made the blood in Braham's veins boil, to see his friend in such a state. He knew he should support her, that it was her decision to make, and by the Bear he'd respect it whatever is would be, but he couldn't ignore the pang of hurt and injustice that struck his intestines with a phantom blade, cutting deep and refusing to scar at seeing her so _desperate._

He took a deep breath. In. And out.

He'd said his piece. He was not the emotional kind, but he'd told her how he felt.

“ _Rox, your devourer--”,_ he had said,

“ _-Chewed on your axe handle. I know. Sorry.”,_ she had chuckled, and then it had begun. _“Listen. You won't believe what Rytlock just said. If I kill Scarlet, I'm in the warband. Definitely.”_

It had struck him like lightning. What that meant. The implications. “ _Oh.”,_ he'd made for lack of a better response. “ _I see.”_

And she had noticed. Of course she had. “ _What's the matter? I thought you'd be happy for me.”_ Had that been accusation in her voice? Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure anymore.

“ _I just don't understand why you need some warband you don't even know. I mean, you've got me. And we've got a team of our own. Look around. They're all here, with you.”_ He hadn't even known where those words had come from, but they had just...poured out. Honest and blunt and raw. He'd never felt more vulnerable than then.

“ _It's a charr thing.”_ , she had argued feebly. “ _You wouldn't understand.”_

How often had that been said in his face? By his mother, by Knut, by all those around him. Did anyone trsut him to get anything? Anything at all? It hurt. He didn't want it to, but it did, and the anger in him began to churn and spark. “ _A charr thing?”_ , he had asked, and there had been a steel edge to his voice. “ _You'd rather be in your fancy warband than with people who've been beside you all this time?”_

“ _That's not what I said.”_ , she had said, quickly trying to redeem herself. “ _It's a big deal to get into the Stone warband.”_

“ _Why?”_ , he had asked accusingly. “ _Because it'll make you special? You're already special. At least, to me.”_ Now that he thought about it, he had been open and honnest, but he'd pushed her, emotionally. He had blackmailed her emotionally, somewhat, and he knew that he had not been a good friend, not in that moment at least.

As a good friend, he would have said something like _You'll do great, I'll miss you, but it will be fine_ , but instead he'd made it only harder for her to decide. He felt guilty for that, now. A little.

Rox had sighed. “ _You'll still see me after I get in.”_

“ _Uh huh.”_ , he'd made, disbelievingly.

“ _You_ will.”, she had insisted, and he had been willing to believe it until she had said, _“Sometimes.”_ He'd turned away. Like a fucking coward he'd turned on his heel and walked away. _“Braham?”_ , she had called behind him, but he had not turned. He couldn't. He was angry, furious, and by the bear he wanted to punch something. “ _Braham! We have to talk about it sooner or later.”_ , she had insisted, but he was a coward, an idiot.

“ _I have to go clean my gear.”_ , he had said and walked _away_.

“ _Braham!”,_ she had tried once more and he had heard her growl in frustration behind him, but he'd walked and walked and walked, and now, he was here.

What Rox did with it was her decision. If only it hadn't torn such a chasm between them. If only he wasn't such a shitty, selfish friend. But he refused to believe that she was better off in the Stone Warband that didn't know her. He refused to believe that she would be happy there. He refused to believe that that was where she would be understood and where her skills would be acknowledged and cherished.

And yup, there it was. When Tivon moved toward Kasmeer and Majory who sat at the shores hurdled closely together, the ranger gave Braham a glance as if to check him over – and the anger in Braham's chest seemed to flare once again.

He didn't need Tivon's worry. He was pissed, alright, but he'd be fine. He had to be. It wasn't his decision to make, and as a friend he knew he would have to let Rox go if she wished. It was just maddening that he didn't _understand_. Why was the warband so damned important? Wasn't it supposed to be a family, friends, all close and together?

Didn't she have that here?

He glared out over the water to ignore the glance Tivon gave him an tried to take another calming breath, and much to his dismay the little asuran girl finally seemed to want to make comment on his mood.

“What's got your feathers so ruffled Moody?”, she asked in that disregarding tone of hers, as if she was just poking her nose into nobody else's business _knowing_ that she was being annoying.

“I was just thinking that I should go get a sack.”, Braham said. “You'd be much easier to carry.”

“Scruffy would make you into pasta if you tried.”, she grinned – _grinned –_ up at him. What were they teaching these kids in Rata Sum? Were they fed impertinence and arrogance with their milk?

For lack of any better comment, Braham just shrugged and cursed himself inwardly. Now he was hungry for pasta. Great. It was sometimes a blessing that he was made quite so simple – speak of food and he'd get hungry, but right now it added to all the maddening and annoying things that made his head churn.

He stiffened when he felt the cold breeze, the aura and power wafting through the air like an icy cold breeze. When he turned his head he saw that the Commander had come, and that didn't help his mood at all.

Not that there was anything wrong with that guy. He was strong, tough, and could dish out better than all of them combined. But there was absolutely no charisma. Yet, the Commander lead with an ease as sure as his stride, as if it was somehow tattooed into his skin like those strange luminescent markings that Braham didn't even pretend to understand.

They glow in the dark. That's all he really knew about that.

When all of the group followed the Commander as if heeled Braham folded his arms in front of his chest, forced to stand and wait here...and watch them leave.

Tivon cast him one last glance and waved, and that at least was a little comfort. He gave a short wave back (more of a jerk of his upper hand than a wave, but it would do) and watched them disappear.

He owed Tivon a lot. And he liked him a lot. The guy was sometimes a bit quirky. He slept on the ground, on forest floors, in sand, on grass, anywhere but a bed, and Braham had glanced down at those bare, vulnerable feet more than he dared to admit, wondering how anyone managed to walk through every terrain and climate without ever stepping into something sharp.

And by the wolf, he was fast. Braham had seen it, or otherwise he wouldn't have believed it. When Tivon ran he was barely a blur, rushing past and leaving only a brush of air to pass by. A small whirlwind with reflexes that matched the speed of lightning.

A rather astounding wonder then that Tivon could absolutely just _forget_ all his tuned skills and become utterly helpless, reckless and clumsy. It was a shy and nervous nature about him that surfaced sometimes, and it was then that Braham always remembered that Tivon was barely a few months old.

Young. Naive. Full of juvenile curiosity and with a thirst to help those in need – almost to the extent where it was a demand and a compulsion. It was this that had saved Braham, that had brought them together, back then in Cragstead.

Back then he'd been worried for and over absolutely everything. He'd worried of being too late, of not making it in time, of somehow ending up injured or dead or worse, finding those he had grown up with injured or dead.

Tivon had been there. He'd talked to him, distracted him. He'd _cared_ , unlike his no-good mother or even Knut. Without the ranger and his pets there, Braham doubted he'd have taken the whole camp. Some, maybe, but not all.

“Alright, time to move.”, Braham grumbled. “Hop into your golem and let's go.”

“So bossy.”, Taimi said, but she obliged and climbed up and Braham held back the urge to just lift her and sit her atop the golem. By the Spirits, he had a helper's syndrome. When the lid shut over Taimi's head and Scruffy charged to life, lifting from his lowered and crouched position they made their move through the sand, the movements of the golem rhythmic and slightly soothing. “So, do you have any idea where Scarlet is?”, she asked, her voice distorted from inside the golem.

“On her way to an early grave.”, Braham quipped.

“She's a genius.”, Taimi said and in her voice was that same reverie she always had when she spoke of the crazed sylvari. “I bet she's planned it all out.”

“Then she should just skip straight to the grave part.”, Braham said.

He could almost hear the roll of Taimi's eyes. “Geniuses don't die.”, she lectured. “I intended to examine Scarlet's probes, which would allow me to expore two subjects at once. What is Scarlet up to, and how does she create such fantastic equipment?”

“Through exploitation, no doubt.”, Braham grumbled in answer. “So Tiny, why are you so fascinated by Scarlet?”

“It's Taimi.”; she corrected and then, after a was a short pause she continued. “In a word: freedom. She studied all over the world, she sets her own agenda, and she gets to build whatever she thinks up. Villainy aside, that's every genius's dream.”

“She killed people. _Is_ killing people.”; Braham reminded her, a bit more sharply. Taimi sounded almost nonchalant when she answered,

“I never said she was a role model or moral paragon. I just like her work and envy the opportunities she has.”

Braham didn't know what to say to that, but he didn't get to, anyway. There was a soft hum in the air that grew louder and louder, and then in the distance he could see Aetherblade ships approaching on the horizon.

“She's here!”, Taimi breathed and Scruffy's legs thumped on the ground as the golem broke into a run toward Fort Marinner and away from the asuran gates.

“Hey!”, Braham called and ran after her and heard the engine of the Aetherblade ship roaring almost deafeningly loud, the Lionguard stirring to life. Why were the Aetherblades here? What were they -

Oh.

Mai Trin.

“Tiny, stop!”, he bellowed after her, but she didn't stop. Scruffy was a good few paces ahead, with no endurance to limit the golem at all. Taimi charged head first into the whole mess of Lionguard assembling, and Braham had to push through and push people aside just to keep track of her. She was heading straight toward the cells and there was a loud explosion, stone scattering and flying and in the distance he could see a large group of Aetherblade coming from within the prison.

There were loud shouts, orders to apprehend Mai Trin once again and stop the Aetherblades, but all efforts were too late. A group of Aetherblades pushed the Lionguard back and Braham managed to run around, following the heavy thump of Scruffy's footfalls. The golem was further ahead, almost with the group, but the Aetherblades barely seemed to notice – or to mind.

There was a loud snap in the air, a sizzle and the hairs on Braham's arms rose, and a round, glimmering portal appeared far ahead. Without waiting for a heartbeat the Aetherblade went through, taking Mai Trin with them, and Braham charged forward when he saw Taimi running straight for the portal.

“Tiny don't!”, he yelled, but the golem passed through the glimmering surface and was gone.

Curse this. Curse the little asura and the seraph and Tivon for making him look after this little stupid ragamuffin. Anger and frustration boiled, but whatever feelings he had, they didn't stop him.

They didn't stop him from charging right after her through the portal, because he'd said he'd watch her and take her home.

And Braham didn't go back on his word. He never did. Or tried to, at least.

But by the Spirits he _hated_ portals. He hated their magic. He hated that glibbery and cold feeling on his skin after, the way his stomach tuned and reminded him of the yet not completely digested dinner, the way his head seemed fuzzy for just a few seconds.

Where the _fuck_ was he?

It was...bright. Bright and clear and Braham thought he must have hit his head somewhere along the way through the portal. Unconsciously he had drawn his mace and shield, ready to smack at anything remotely threatening, but he was...alone.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the bright glow of the sun and he felt a cool breeze brush over his skin, ruffling the hairs there. He was standing on stone, there were patches of grass, and ahead...

There were islands. Islands of land floating in the air.

Braham scratched his head just to check but no, there wasn't pain, no bulge, no blood. His head was fine.

He'd heard of this. The Edge of the Mists. There were some crazy people that said there were battles here that needed to be fought and won and tried to recruit people with the promise of war and fights and glory, and Braham had been tempted. But he'd been busy with other things – mainly Scarlet – and now he found himself here after all.

“Damn that ragamuffin.”, he cursed and made his way across. The islands were connected either by small passageways that would make it easy to fall and tumble over the edge, but Braham wasn't clumsy enough for that. He saw that the patch of grass under his boots was trampled by many feet and wondered what Tivon would be able to read from this, if perhaps the ranger could track down Tiny through this mess, but he wasn't here. Braham was alone.

Thankfully, even he was able to see where the Aetherblade had headed, but he couldn't tell if Tiny had come through here as well. Perhaps she'd been captured, but then they'd have discarded her golem, right? Perhaps they had. They could have easily flung the piece of metal and magitech over the side and doom it to a long, undetermined fall.

Braham clenched his mace tighter. His eyes glanced warily over the islands and he couldn't ignore the lurching and sickening feeling that welled up until he crossed over a wooden bridge that swung dangerously from side to side as he crossed it. He wasn't afraid of heights, not at all.

But the impending fall to an uncertain destination did leave him feeling kinda nauseas.

Thankfully, just ahead the stone rose up into the form of one large stair, and just atop Braham could see the sparkling and sizzling of magitech and golem parts. There was a low curse and Braham recognized the voice, could see Taimi's large ears and the red bow on her head from behind Scruffy's leg as she attempted to fix something.

When he sheathed his mace and shield and approached she glanced up in alarm and when their eyes met she relaxed visibly. “Oh, Braham.”, she said, and maybe he was imagining it, but there was a hint of guilt in her voice.

“Tiny.”, Braham nodded toward her. “Are you alright?”

Taimi deflated somewhat, had expected a lecture along the lines of _That was reckless and dangerous and you are just a progeny. You have to be more careful._ She had not expected to be asked _that_. “I...am fine.”, Taimi murmured and rose to her feet, the ache in her legs familiar.

“Where are the Aetherblades? Did they do something to Scruffy?”

Taimi shook her head. “No. Scruffy here got kicked around by the probes' defensive capabilities and I need to replace a few parts.”

“So your golem's dead.”, Braham shrugged and frowned “Why don't you just walk out of here?”

“Same reason you don't fly out: because I can't. My ears, how thick are you?”, Taimi asked and then pointed down. “See these legs? They don't work right. I can't walk very far unassisted.”

Braham had the grace to flush. “Uh...I uh...sorry. I didn't know!” Taimi rolled her eyes and then scanned over Scruffy once again. There was an awkward silence between them and Braham was looking for something to say, for any words at all. So, will...what was your golem's name again?

“Scruffy.”, she answered curtly, but she seemed lost in thought.

“Will Scruffy work again if you get the stuff you need? I'd get it for you, but I can't leave you unprotected.”

Taimi looked up surprised and felt guilty for calling him thick. Well, he was a bit stupid, but he wasn't like all the other adults she knew. “You're sweet. And absolutely. I built him for maximum ease of maintenance. All he needs are some replacement parts. He may be rough around the edges, but when he's whole, Scruffy is as reliable as an entropic crystal regulator.”

“Ah. That's good, then.” Braham said, not quite sure what to say or if he had even understood, and when Taimi raised her eyebrows he added. “Right?”

To his delight, she laughed, giggled, just like a little girl, and Braham was suddenly glad he'd come after her, that she was alright. “Yes, Braham. That's good.”

“What happened? Why did your silly magical machine man stop working?”

“I was studying that strange device, but every time I got too close, it zapped me and knocked me back. Eventually, Scruffy's power cells shorted out and pieces of him fell off. That activated his emergency mode. So he followed protocol like he's supposed to: he carried me here, spit me out, and then powered down. And you've got a lot of nerve calling Scruffy "silly" with those clothes and that haircut.”

Braham laughed. “Hey. It's practical. I have to fight people, you know. Speaking of which, where did the Aetherblades go?”, Braham wanted to know and looked around once more, but he could see no trace of them anywhere.

“They continued onwards, I don't know where.”, Taimi said and then walked toward the edge of the large stone stair and reached out her hands toward Braham. He didn't comment on her gesture at all. He picked her up and gently set her down on the ground where she slumped down, back against the cool of the stone and Braham joined beside her.

He liked it here. He'd always been tempted to come here and see if the promise for glory was true. Fighting was what he did best, after all. Once Taimi was safe once again and the whole Scarlet matter was dealt with, he'd drag Rox here. She'd like it. Kasmeer and Majory could come too, if they promised to look at the danger instead of one another. And Tivon would be there without question.

Yeah. Braham could imagine that perfectly and smiled.

“I hate sitting still.”, Taimi grumbled barely ten seconds into the silence. “I need to be studying those probes. There's so much I can learn from them.”

“Well, you could have, but you decided to run after Aetherblade into a portal.”, Braham grinned. “Remind me to wring Mai Trin's neck for escaping.” There was another pause and Braham finally brought up something he'd thought about, but hadn't really found an answer to. “Okay, truth time: Why did you run away from me? Why did you come here in the first place?”

“It's not personal.”, Taimi quickly said. “I just wanted to see Scarlet's handiwork up close. Her marionette was amazing. Inspiring. When I saw her minions running through a portal, I followed them.”

“You were supposed to stay with me. I told you to stop.” There had been so many things that could have gone wrong. The Aetherblades could have attacked her, injured her, left her to die. There was no telling what horrors could have unfolded.

“Zojja tells me to do stuff all the time. So does Vorpp. I don't listen to them, either.”

Braham knew there was little he could say that would sway her opinion, so instead he asked. “What'd you learn about those...um...things you were studying before your golem broke?”

“As if you'd understand.”, Taimi sighed but yielded. “All right, I've got nothing but time, so let's give it a go. They appear to be survey probes for the purpose of identifying high-energy thaumic channels and matrices.”

“So it's like magical energy is a swirling storm and these things are mapping it.”, Braham surmised.

“A trifle simplistic, but yes, that's exactly the case.”

“Tell me more about the probes you examined.”

“They're well designed.”, Taimi said and her eyes sparkled. “They emit pulsed eldritch waves that register the relative strength of all local ambient magic.”

“Like the way bats hunt? They let out a chirp and react to what that chirp bounces off of.”

“Right again.”, Taimi grinned. “I am clearly a good influence on you.”

“What do you think those probes of Scarlet's are looking for?”, Braham continued to ask.

“Best guess? Um...”, Taimi thought for a moment before she answered. “The transcendent magic channels that span the globe. Old-fashioned Synergetics texts call them ley lines. Normally you can't see them or touch them, but they're real. Magic finds its own path, like rivers running to the sea. The probes are trying to identify the biggest and strongest of these ley lines, but I'm not sure why. Not yet.”

“What's your story anyway, Tiny?”, Braham asked and brought his knees closer, resting his arms languidly atop them. “How does a little thing like you get into such big trouble?”

“It's Taimi.”, she corrected once again. “And I'm a progeny prodigy. I've got important people fighting for the right to be my teacher.”

“Important people, huh? Are they real people, or just big-eared figments of your overactive imagination?”, Braham grinned and she rolled her eyes.

“They're real, but they all want to tell me what to learn. I'd rather be like Scarlet and pick my own courses.”

“Wolf's tail, girl! Don't be too much like Scarlet, okay? One's way too many.”

“Did you know Scarlet attended each of the three colleges? And that she worked with the Inquest? Ooh, and that she— “

“If you believe the rumors.”, Braham quickly said before she could continue to swarm over Scarlet. “I talked with an asura named Vorpp, and he says it was all bunk. I'm inclined to agree.”

“I know what Vorpp says, but her twisted creatures weren't bunk. Neither the holo-pirates. Some asura are just jealous.”, Taimi defended.

“That's enough about Scarlet for now.”, Braham decided. “Jormag's tooth, you really need a new hero.”

“Well, do something heroic enough and I might change my mind.”

At that, Braham grinned. “Listen, Taimi, if I see Scarlet, I'm going to scoop you up with one hand and beat her bloody with the other, okay?”

She laughed at that, once again nothing but a little girl, and Braham liked to see her like that. With less worries, with less enthusiastic science spilling from her mouth. Just...being a kid. For a few minutes. The giggles slowly faded and her eyes fixated on the spot between her feet, her eyes thoughtful and melancholic. “Braham?”, she asked hesitantly. “Are we still going to be friends when we get back?”

“Wait—are we friends now?”, Braham asked surprised.

“I think so.”, Taimi nodded, but she sounded hesitant. “You don't boss me around as much as other adults. And when you ask a question, you let me answer it.”

“Well, I'm friends with Frostbite and he can't even talk.”, he chuckled. “So yes, Tiny. We'll still be friends.”

“Not if you keep calling me "Tiny."”, Taimi grinned. “Braham, will you tell me a story while we wait?”

“After you ran off on me?”, Braham said, theatrically hurt. “And all the abuse you heaped on me since we got here? I get plenty of that back in Cragstead.”

“You don't spend much time around asura, do you?”, Taimi noticed. “We only abuse people we like. Or those we're trying to improve.”

“Fine. I'll assume you like me. Ahem! "Once upon a time, there was a brave and handsome norn named Braham..."”

“Aww, I've heard this one already.”, she chided. “From you. Twice.” She hadn't, but that was beside the point. The point was that the both of them began to chuckle and then laugh, and Braham was suddenly infinitely glad to be here, and vowed to himself to protect Taimi, no matter what.

 


	14. Escape from Lion's Arch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading over this after writing Braham felt so weird, haha. The finally is progressing, and next chapter we finally have the finale and climax of the LS:1! Gosh, we've come so far together already, I can barely believe it. Thank you, all of you, for going through this journey with me. This story is with me throughout my day and it is a great inspiration - as well as a motivation. You guys make my world spin.  
> Okay. Phew. Let's get on with the story before I fall onto my knees. Good thing I am sitting right now. :3  
> One Chapter, coming up!

Tivon arrived in Fort Marriner and saw Sgileas speaking to some of the Lionguard forces before the Necromancer turned toward him as if he had somehow sensed him, dark eyes studying Tivon from head to his toes. Under those eyes he always felt so small, like the time he had awakened during the night, eyes gazing out toward the far away stars that were so much larger than himself, a whole universe that found his existence to be entirely unimportant.

Sgileas eyes reflected that. Like those distant, far stars, as if it was the very world looking at Tivon and telling him how insignificant and small he was, but he tried to shake that feeling away, accrediting it to the part of him that was admiring Sgileas, the part that was jealous of all that prowess and leadership capability.

“Tivon.”, Sgileas greeted with a curt nod of his chin and Tivon smiled at him.

“Commander.”, he greeted back. Saying Sgileas' name felt like an intrusion, as if he were breaking down a wall, and he had no intention of stepping on anyones toes, not if he could avoid it.

“Canach is inside. I heard you had dealings with the secondborn before.” Sgileas lead once again and Tivon followed, feet moving without even a second thought. Following was so much easier, anyhow.

“He was the one that agitated the Karka and the local wildlife on Southsun Cove. He had an ulterior motive: To free the refugees from the clutches of the Consortium. It was a noble task, all the right reasons with all the wrong methods.”

“Karka.”, Sgileas repeated and nodded toward the small companion of Tivon's shoulder. “You took one as a pet.”

Tivon hesitated and averted his eyes, remembering the predicament he had found himself in. He knew that once Kiel saw it he would have to do some explaining, that not everyone would understand, but something told him that Sgileas would. “When the wildlife was aggravated by Canach's actions Ellen Kiel was forced to eradicate them. I... I took an egg with me and raised it secretly.”

Sgileas didn't answer and Tivon thought that perhaps the Necromancer hadn't heard, a nervous thrum making him grab a loose stem from his thigh and twisting it in his fingers. Above them was a stone arch that sheltered them from the sun and the cool of the shadows engulfed them. Ahead was a small room, stairs leading upward in a spiral and there, sitting in a cage with the very same scowl and the very same grim expression was Canach.

They approached the cell and Sgileas waited near the wall, leaned against it with his arms folded in front of his chest, eyes gleaming with their purple glow in the darkness. Tivon drew closer to Canach and the warrior glanced up at him, casting him a mustering glance, recognition glinting in his eyes.

“I remember seeing you on Southsun Cove.”, Canach murmured and the warrior edged closer toward the grid, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I've changed since then, so I hope you can put my misdeeds aside.”

They may have been misdeeds, and Tivon did not agree with the methods, but Canach had only the good of the people at heart. _Perhaps_ , Tivon thought when he approached, _Canach is not such a bad person, after all._

But even then, Tivon was not here to talk about Southsun. “I have a few questions for you.”, he said hesitantly.

“Well, I'm not going anywhere, and most of my visitors don't come for polite conversation.” Canach gestured toward the ground in front of the small cell, a place for Tivon to sit and the ranger didn't mind to oblige. There was little to be done – the prison was not made for visitors after all, and Canach settled down just opposite of him. “I'm listening. Please ask your questions.”

“Why didn't you escape with Mai Trin?”, Tivon wondered.

“I wasn't invited to.”, Canach shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not that I would have accepted. I've had my fill of being a fugitive. I intend to serve my full sentence and walk out of here without encumbrance.”

“How much more time do you have left to serve?”, Tivon asked curiously. It had been almost a year now that Canach was in prison, surely his sentence would be done soon.

“Lion's Arch justice is...flexible.”, Canach said hesitantly, searching for the right words. “My sentence can be reduced for good behavior, or someone could buy my billet and I'd be released early to work for them. “

“Buy your billet? What is that?”

“It's essentially a work-release program that allows me to earn my freedom early. Most prisoners are billeted to fight in the arena, but that doesn't appeal to me...even if I could find a buyer.”

“I remember you being a superb swordsman.”, Tivon smiled encouragingly, but Canach didn't smile back. At least he didn't scowl, either. Instead Canach weighed the words and frowned a little, and Tivon wondered if perhaps he had been too forward with his comment, so he quickly said, “I...I'd like to ask you something else.”

“Well, I'm listening.”, Canach shrugged.

“Do you know Scarlet?”, Tivon asked.

“I briefly met Scarlet when she was still called Ceara, but we were not at all compatible. Ceara was distracted and flighty and full of slight regard, and I do not enjoy being slighted.”

Tivon didn't know why, but that made him chuckle. Canach eased back a bit, eyes never ceasing to muster him, but it held nothing of the cold, intense stare that Sgileas had. The past was always there, would always be there to haunt him. It was not fair that it should be held in front of Canach's face all this time, and yet Tivon was curious. “Do you plan to return to Southsun Cove?”

“I'd rather not discuss that,”, Canach said and Tivon was about to apologize when Canach continued, “but since you asked: no. Every time I've gone there I've made things worse, so I shall not return again until I can offer something that will undo the damage I've done.”

“Is the Consortium still out to get you?”

“I assume so. They are a ruthless business entity, and I disrupted their business. Noll tried to have me killed, but I can't prove that, so I shall have to remain vigilant. Forever, I fear.”

That just wasn't fair, was it? That Canach would have to pay for a deed he had done in the past, for...forever, really. For as long as he lived. He felt...sorry for Canach. “Thank you.”, Tivon said. “For the information, I mean.”

As he slowly rose to his feet Canach's eyes followed him, but the warrior made no attempt to stand. “I'll be here, if you have any more questions.”

Tivon smiled at him, and he meant it when he said, “I'll come by again.”

When he turned away he didn't get to see the look of confusion and surprise on the warrior's face, didn't get to see the furrowed eyebrows, but Sgileas did. The Necromancer watched from the darkness, eyes squinted, ears sharp, and he gestured with his chin toward the stone arch and Tivon followed him without a word.

“No news.”, Tivon shrugged and glanced out toward the wide area of paved stone. “I haven't seen any Pact forces arrive yet.”

“I haven't either.”, Sgileas murmured, eyes trained on the horizon.

“Did something go wrong?”, Tivon asked, worry gnawing its way deep inside his fibres, draining any vigor from his sap. The Pact was all they had to defend themselves against Scarlet. They were the only hope they had of ever actually winning this battle – because the Lionguard could only do so much. It had not been mean accusation when Sgileas had said they were the weakest force.

Sgileas didn't answer for a moment, lost in thought. He had sent a message to Trahearne directly, and surely he would have sent the troops Sgileas had requested. So, yes. Something must have gone wrong. A delay, perhaps? Had his letter been intercepted? Maybe there was still time to simply walk through the portal...

“I could send Vail.”, Tivon offered. “He's very reliable.”

Sgileas gave the raven a glance. If his letter had been intercepted then it was most urgent that the message arrived, if there had been a delay surely nobody would think any less of him for trying to reach the Pact in time.

After a small pause Sgileas gave a curt nod. “Let us send your Raven, but we must be quick.”

Tivon put his fingers into his mouth and made a sharp whistling noise. The raven sailed above their heads in the air, barely a peck in the blue, clear sky, and came rushing down as soon as Tivon had signalled. With precision the raven landed on his outstretched arm and Sgileas walked toward one of the Vigil's offices, collected a piece of parchment and a pen and hastily wrote the message.

“Here.”, Sgileas said and thrust the message into Tivon's hand, and Tivon rolled the piece tightly and squeezed it into a small, metallic container that dangled from Vail's leg. It had been some time since Tivon had Vail carry any messages for him, but he trusted the Raven.

“Bring this to Fort Trinity.”, Tivon said and caressed the Raven's head. With a crow Vail pushed himself from Tivon's shoulders and flew into the air, disappearing with a few, swift bats of his wings. Tivon watched, chest feeling somewhat tight and anxiety rising. If the first letter had been intercepted, perhaps he should have warned the Raven, but he noticed that Vail was headed toward the asura gates, and Sgileas noticed that as well.

“He's smart.”, the Necromancer granted and Tivon looked up in surprise at the praise.

“The Raven, the norn spirit guide, gave him to me.”, Tivon said and noticed that he had told nobody except Malomedis this story. “I saw him hatch and raised him.”

“I understand that Rangers have a...peculiar and deep connection to their pets.”, Sgileas murmured.

“It's a bond.”, Tivon explained. “It's two lives weaving together as one, a connection of friendship, loyalty and trust. More so than any other.”

Sgileas studied him for a moment, and Tivon wondered if he imagined the recognition in Sgileas' eyes, or if the Necromancer actually understood. He remembered Kasmeer and Majory and Rox, and wondered briefly if Sgileas had such a someone on his life...

But somehow, he had trouble imagining it. The Commander was such a cold, apathetic sylvari, and quite so intimidating and _powerful_ , too. “Is there...someone you like?”, Tivon asked hesitantly, and the wall that he had felt between them seemed to crumble, his question like a hammer in the stone.

“Is that important?”, Sgileas shot back coolly, inherently proving Tivon's point, and Tivon quickly raised his hands in a pacifying manner.

“No, no of course not. Just...curious.”

“There is no need to speak of such things.”, Sgileas voice was abrupt and Tivon wondered if he'd maybe upset the Necromancer with his inane question.

“I'm sorry.”, He said and lowered his head, scratching the back of his neck with his hand. “I didn't meant to upset you.”

There was a short pause and then, suddenly, Tivon felt a hand on his back and he was pushed toward the ground and he yelped, raised his hands to catch his fall, mind whirling, and then and explosion rippled through the air that made the ground shudder and tremble under his fingers.

Splinters and rocks scattered through the air, rumbling and crashing all around, the noise so sudden and deafeningly loud Tivon forgot how to breathe. When he remembered how the dust that rose into the air made him cough and he blinked upward toward the sky through the veil of grey and brown.

Aetherblade ships hovered in the sky, looming and dangerous, drawing closer and closer, bombarding the city from the distance with missiles that fired relentlessly. Screams rose from the interior of the city, wailing over the whole chaos that abruptly erupted. They both stood and Tivon brushed over his arm, noticed that there was a small cut on his forearm that stung at the motion, but it was minor enough to be ignored.

“To the main plaza!”, Sgileas called and was already running, his staff drawn and shades already circling around him as if eager for a fight. Tivon dashed after him, ducked his head when a missile shot out over his head, and Derry was close behind him, whining at his slow pace. A large piece of stone catapulted itself in front of Tivon and he managed to jump up high just in time, placing his hand atop and jumping across, huffing when his feet landed on the other side.

People filled the streets and alleys, he could make out the shining armor of Lionguard among them, but there were so many civilians... By the Pale Tree, how were they going to get them all out? They _needed_ to get them out. The gates would be filled with them, and the asura gates even more so -

The asura gates. That was why Sgileas was headed for the main plaza. _Oh, you really are an idiot_ , Tivon thought bitterly and lifted his arms defensively against the scattering debris.

When Tivon finally rounded the corner, a splinter of wood passing through the air just inches in front of his face he saw that the asura gates were no more. Where they had stood on an elevated platform of stone that was the very center, connected to all parts of the city with wooden bridges, there was nothing left there except large craters of stone and the dark outer rings of what once had been asura gates, energy sparkling and sizzling almost angrily.

“Get the wounded and the civilians to safety!”, Sgileas barked and Tivon barely heard him over all the noise, the few Lionguard that heard started herding the civilians toward the Gendarran Fields. When Tivon finally approached, eyes darting over the destruction and disorder, Sgileas gave him a sharp look. “We must hold this point. It is their only chance of escape.”

Tivon nodded and lifted his gaze, searching for a high vintage point to abuse his bow and arrow. There was a building close by and without another moments hesitation he rushed forward, jumped atop the lowest windowsill and pushed himself higher with a jump, arms stretching to reach for a small advance over his head and grasping it just barely. With a swing of his legs he managed to bring himself even higher and climbed atop the rooftop, and as soon as he knelt atop he pulled a vial from his belt pouch and scattered the arrows in front of him.

Despite his body having shaken before, his hands were completely still now. With deft, quick movements he coated the arrows one by one, dripping the poison over them, the liquid thick and sticky and he placed the vial back, took three arrows at once and knocked them into the string, lifted his bow and aimed at the sky over them.

From here he could see partly over Lion's Arch, and the destruction the Aetherblade had wrought. Houses were lit and in flame, dust and smoke rising over the city in dark clouds that loomed like shadows. The tangle of citizens in the far distance as they gathered at the gate was making his gut turn and clench uncomfortably, and then his eyes scanned the sky.

The Airships had drawn in and hovered over the city now and from their decks fell ropes that dangled in the air, swinging in the soft breeze. Not a second later aetherblade came down, slithering down the ropes, battlecry on their lips and armed to the teeth. Tivon shot arrow after arrow, but for every one he shot three more made it to the ground. Some Aetherblade managed to simply appear on the ground in a sizzle of electricity, charging up right where they stood, cutting off those that fled and striking at _anyone_ they could.

Tivon tried to keep his eyes focused, his mind steeled, but when his arrows began to dwindle away and he had to watch an Aetherblade pierce a human female with a rapier right through the stomach he wished that he was stronger, that he could just as easily cut through enemies as Sgileas did from below.

His arrow came too late, but the Aetherblade fell in the far distance toward the ground without a sound, blood painting the cobblestones red. This was what Scarlet brought, this was what the maniac had decided to bring them. Chaos, destruction and death.

 _Don't loose it_ , Tivon thought desperately. He aimed his arrow at a charr dangling from one of the ropes and shot him right through the throat. The charr made a gurgling sound before he plummeted down toward the ground where his body smacked against the stone in a splatter of blood.

Many others shared his fate and Tivon kept up his pace until he noticed that one of the airship was aiming at him, the snout of the ship pointing right toward him and he quickly darted to the side and jumped into the air, felt the blast behind him catapult him forward and he reached out with his arm and barely caught the edge of the adjacent rooftop and pulled himself up with a powerful pull of his arm and swing of his legs.

With a tap he landed and whirled around, shot his arrow before he had even come to a halt, but he knew he hit his mark when he distantly heard the _thwak_ of the arrow pierce into flesh. With a huffing breath Tivon came to a halt at the edge of the rooftop, hands gripping his bow tightly, eyes gliding over the area and out toward the water where he saw something stirring and moving, and then, pushing through the surface, came the krait.

“Behind us!”, he yelled and Sgileas must have heard, because the Necromancer turned around and sent a swirl of dark magic that looked like a dark, crescent moon toward the wave of the krait. Whatever the spell was, the first line of krait were sliced in half as they approached, but more and more came swarming through the waters and Tivon lodged in another arrow.

Tivon ducked away when a missile missed just over his head, swishing over the rooftop and missing it by barely a hairs breath, landing in the water beyond where it splashed loudly, sending a fountain of water into the air that came down as a drizzle.

He ran, feet tapping loudly even in his ears and jumped, the air wishing by and landed on a much lower rooftop, legs giving in slightly and he rolled forward to ease the impact, erected himself and shot his arrow down at the amassing krait, his arrow hitting one of them – which one was hardly important.

He continued to run, came to a halt just at the edge and climbed down, hand holding on to the edge of the roof, other arm swinging from the rooftop and legs dangling just seconds before the wood splintered over his head with a blast and everything seemed to spin, his body crashed down toward the ground and the air was pressed from his lungs. Something crashed against his knees, hit stomach and chest and he lifted his arms just in time to protect his head.

A groan escaped him when the cascade of debris stopped and he pushed himself up, wooden planks and splinters falling and crashing all around him. With a pained hiss he erected himself, bow in his hand broken and snapped in half.

Half dazed he almost didn't notice the krait that slithered closer toward him through a ruined alleyway and whirled out of the way of the spear just barely. His body turned and he lifted his hand, grasped an arrow from his quiver and pulled it free, and when he had fully turned he rammed the jagged arrowhead into the krait's skull.

The creature startled and stilled and then succumbed to the ground without a sound, scaly and slithering body just falling to the floor in a heap. Tivon's breathing was ragged and his mouth and lips were dry from all the dust.

He pulled his sword free and stumbled over the ruins, ignoring the ache of his body, his eyes focussing on the rallying point where the other Lionguard and the Commander still held their ground valiantly against all the approaching forces, and _By the Pale Tree_ , it looked like they were _winning._

There was the sound of static, a bulb of electricity right beside him and Tivon made a startled noise and stumbled to the side, his blade gliding through the flesh of an aetherblade pirate before he had fully materialized. The human made a strangled noise, stared at the cut that deeply crossed his chest and fell to the ground, magitech armor blinking furiously.

Dumb luck for Tivon, that one.

He barely recounted all the times he lifted his sword to parry a strike, the amount of times he had to duck and whirl and turn away, and he managed to push back an entire group of aetherblades with just his lightning quick reflexes and his snake-like movements.

With a quick twist of his blade he cut the aetherblade just across the belly, turned around and kicked the next one down a pair of stairs. The man tumbled and fell and Tivon huffed in a breath, glaring down at the group that stood at the bottom of the stairs.

A massive norn with big pauldrons to match, a massive hammer resting over his shoulder. An agile looking woman with a rapier, a human man with broad shoulders and a weapon that looked like a lightning whip, and behind them was a nightmare courtier, dark eyes glaring up at him.

Just as they started to ascend the stairs, Tivon met them as he descended. He parried the rapier from the woman to his left, deflected her strike and managed to bring his elbow across her jaw as he quickly stepped forward, but he didn't watch as she tumbled down the steps with a pained cry. His blade continued its arch toward the right and as he turned he saw the lightning whip sizzle and slap through the air, and he ducked beneath. The ferns atop his head tingled and he saw the flicker of blue and white light for a brief moment from the corner of his eyes and he took a large step toward the right, lifted his left foot from the ground just in time when he felt the stone stairs beneath him shudder.

The norn's hammer crashed down at where his left foot had been, and it took the massive norn some time to lift it high enough again for another strike, enough time for Tivon to lift his leg high enough and let it snap into extension, meeting the back of the male human's head with his shin.

He heard the clatter of the whip as it fell toward the paved ground and the human fell toward the ground, head first into a stair, and the crack that resounded made Tivon almost nauseas. When he managed to regain his balance and place his foot down time seemed to slow.

A force crashed into his back, making him stagger and tumble forward and Tivon tried to catch himself somewhere, _anywhere_ , but the force was enough to send him to topple over the side of the stair and into the turbid water beneath.

Cold engulfed him and with strong strokes of his arm he managed to break through to the surface, gasping and heaving for air, when all of a sudden something tugged at his ankle and pulled him under. Everything was dark and seemed faded, but even here Tivon could hear the screams and the explosions, if only distant, and his eyes scanned in panic, head whirling around when he noticed that a krait had latched onto his leg, pulling him toward the tip of a spear.

Tivon grabbed desperately at the weapon, sharp edge piercing into his palm while his other hand reached out and gasped the spear's shaft. He pulled his other leg close to his chest and kicked the krait away, tearing the spear from its grasp and turned it against the resistance of water, speartip sinking into snake flesh.

Blood streamed forward, almost black in the shadows dancing through the surface of the water, and the krait sunk in on itself, drifting in the waters. Tivon pulled the spear free with a tug and then breached the surface once more, and this time he didn't wait to pull himself onto the flagstones.

For a brief moment he allowed himself to gasp in air and then felt two hands pulling him to his feet. He felt the aura long before he saw who it was, and when he stared into Sgileas eyes it was almost a comfort, then.

Almost.

If his body wasn't drenched and cold despite his many efforts to fight back their enemies. If anything they had done showed that it actually had an affect, but all of Scarlet's allies were still outnumbering them, still outpowering them and pushing them away, bit by bit.

“You alright?”, the Commander asked, voice sharp and demanding, and Tivon could see various traces of blood splattered onto Sgileas' robe, even over his face, but of course there was not a single cut anywhere on his bark, no sign of sap anywhere.

Tivon wasn't alright. Not when their situation seemed to be quite so fruitless, but he nodded anyway, not allowing the thoughts to drown out the light he relied on to get through this. That slight shimmer of hope that perhaps they could win. Or at least win to fight another day. “I'm Okay.”, he said and Sgileas nodded curtly, then turned his head and Tivon followed his gaze.

And _froze_.

Tearing through the clouds, coming from the sky as if the universe itself had decided to intervene, was the massive, gigantic metallic drill that Tivon had seen on the screen in Scarlet's lab. It came down, sinking lower and lower down toward the water with a loud rumbling noise like thunder, there was a harsh wind that picked up and where the Aetherblade ship had been was nothing but void and air.

“Oh no.”, Tivon breathed and his shoulders slumped forward, all tension and fighting spirit sapped from him. From the distance, among all the smoke and dust that rose high into the air, canvassing the sky in dark streams, Tivon could see a green hue take to the air, spreading like wildfire. At first he was not sure how hard he had hit his head when he saw that the people, lionguard included, were fleeing from the green mist, and slowly, moving through his murky brain, Tivon recognized it. “That's the toxin.”, he brought out and his head whirled around.

It was...it was coming from _everywhere_. Surrounding everything, permeating air, settling over the city like a thick, vile mist.

Sgileas didn't need him to tell him that, though. “Retreat!”, Sgileas roared over the many noises and the Lionguard obeyed immediately. Tivon took a step and swayed, and Sgileas grabbed his arm with an almost painfully tight grip and steadied him. Once Tivon stood, Sgileas pulled him along relentlessly.

The mist settled over them so quickly, Tivon barely registered any part of their escape. Everything was hidden and clouded underneath the thick green and he felt it fill his lungs, creeping up into his chest and festering there. It was stifling, thick, murky, so very overwhelming that he was reminded of the Nightmare Tower, the illusions...and then he heard. He heard the ravens caw over his head once more, the toxin much stronger now. It had to be, if he was hallucinating already. He lifted his head and saw the dark shadow moving over him, ravens of black that mixed and disappeared into the thick veil, and suddenly, Tivon stood perfectly still and stared at the circling ravens.

The hand on his arm tugged roughly, but Tivon withered free and turned around. How. How. How? How had he forgotten? How had he _not noticed?_

“Derry!”, he screamed into the chaos. “Derry!”

“We have to go!”, Sgileas growled impatiently, made another attempt to grab for his arm, but Tivon was _fast_. He evaded with an ease that only ever came to him in the calm of battle – even though there was nothing calm inside him now. He heard his name behind him, but he was already running _back_ , because _Pale Mother forgive him_ , if something happened to Derry, he needed to be there, he needed to _know_ -

The fear and anxiety and sheer terror coiled in his belly and even though he could barely see a few meters ahead through the thick green veil he pushed onward, running, _dashing_ , through abandoned alleyways, and the only warning of anyone, may it be stray citizens or enemies, were dark shadows silhouetted against the green, but they were all too disoriented, too _frightened_ to mind Tivon.

“Derry!”, he screamed again, his voice seemed dulled under the fog's influence, everything suddenly seemed so faded and distant as though he was underwater once more. “Derry!”

He would give _anything_ to hear Derry's bark, but it grew quiet. Entirely too quiet. The city was in ruins, houses left in nothing but piles of stone and wood, debris and splinters scattered across the whole area, and there was nothing Tivon recognized anymore. He didn't even know where he was. He could hear voices, whispering from darkness and shadows, could hear someone call his name, but he shook his head wildly.

_No, no. Not real. Focus. Derry. You have to find Derry. You must._

But every drag of air made breathing _harder._ His mind grew hazy and his feet slowed until he all but dragged them over the pavement, the dark ravens circling right over his head, coming closer and closer and closer... Like vultures slowly sinking down toward their prey.

Tivon chocked and gulped in air, the toxin burning his mouth. It tasted bitter and thick, much like smoke, and his eyes began to water. He screamed once more, but it came out in only a broken, croaking voice and he stumbled and fell when his feet tangled in a piece of cloth.

His body crashed own onto the ground and he groaned, lifted himself up on his quivering arms and looked behind him. It was a red string, no, a red shawl, shawl, shawl? That...that couldn't be. He had left the shawl in Divinity's Reach, he had-

The karka pinched his shoulder, _hard_ , and Tivon shrunk away from the pain, the sting surging white through his body. Startled he looked at the Karka, then back at the shawl – and saw that it wasn't a shawl at all.

It was a stream of _blood_ , and there, protruding from underneath a pile of rubble, was an outstretched arm detached from the rest of the body.

“By the Pale Tree.”, Tivon whispered and stood on wobbly feet. He needed to... He had to...

He was going to...

He was...

He couldn't remember what he was doing, why he was doing it, or where he was going. He wandered, setting one foot after another, his every breath growing more and more labored, _aching_ even, as if every drag of air was equivalent to swallowing knives.

His soles met wood and then all of a sudden they met air, he tried to catch his balance and fell forward and landed in the soft and grainy texture of sand, body withering at the impact. With a groan he tried to push himself up and lift his eyes, and in the far distance over the surface of the water he could see the massive drill, could hear it roaring over the eerie silence of Lion's Arch. Water gushed in the distance and washed ashore, close to where Tivon was, but when he tried to lift himself again he couldn't, all strength sapped from his bones and he fell down into the sand again.

The pinch on his shoulder was faint, barely even registered on his skin, and the last thing he heard was a scream that tore through the air, high-pitched and wailing, and then Scarlet's laughter, hysterical and manic, and then, finally, darkness took him.

  


“He's waking!”, a voice said close by and he wondered why everything was swaying, why the air was so stifling hot. His arms were slung over something broad and wide, his legs bound or...held? The swaying stopped and Tivon blinked through his confusion and noticed that Braham had carried him on his back and was now settling him down toward the ground into the grass.

“Come on big guy.”, he heard Braham and saw the norn slowly shift from many Braham's into one. “That's it.” Tivon forced himself to keep in his sitting position and groaned. Everything felt... _broken_. Tattered. He was exhausted, and his eyes and throat were burning as if he had chucked down a vial of acid.

“Braham?”, Tivon croaked out and did not recognize his voice. When had Braham arrived? How long had he been unconscious? Just...what was going on? He had so many questions, but no real voice to bring out all of them at once. “Where are we?”

“Just outside Lion's Arch.”, Rox answered and Tivon heard the many footfalls around them as those fleeing from the city brushed past. By the Pale Tree, there were so _many_. He could see the masses from the corner of his eyes, passing by over the planes of grass and over the roads, scattering far and away. People. Humans and Charr and sylvari and norn, elderly, adults and children. Chocking and gasping and crying and by the Pale Tree, _wailing_ as they walked for those that were yet unfound...or lost.

Braham pulled him to his feet and Tivon swayed for a moment, clutched Braham's shoulder for support before he trusted his legs again.

“Aaargh!”, Rox made in frustration and threw her claws into the air. “Could that have been any worse?”

“We saved some, how many are still in there?”, Braham let out a huff of frustration and brought a hand onto the small of Tivon's back to keep him from falling. “I'm going to break Scarlet in half.”

“Hold on to that thought. It won't be long before we get another chance to go back in.”, Rox reassured him.

“Next time, we save as many as we can.”, Braham grit out, determined. “I am not stopping until they have to carry me out.”

“Guys.”, Tivon broke in, voice urgent and deep. “Where is Derry?”

Rox blinked at Tivon in confusion and only now when her green eyes darted around them did she notice that, indeed, his companions were gone. She made a low, frustrated growing noise. “I haven't seen him...”, she said hesitantly, her eyes searching over the many people, but there were no words of comfort that could have stopped the sinking feeling in Tivon's chest.

“I went back to find him.”, Tivon brought out and coughed, had to grip into Braham's shoulder tightly as his body rattled and convulsed, his throat feeling like it was scrubbed raw. “I was...I was in there...”, he trailed off and turned his head toward the city. The gate was still flooded with those fleeing from the inside, the bridge absolutely packed to the brim, the noise unbearably loud. Wails and cries, sobs and angry screams...It was all a mixture of desperation and sorrow, and the bitter tang of the toxin wouldn't leave his mouth.

And in the sky above was the Scarlet's massive ship that was digging down into Lion's Arch, a dark silhouette like an enormous giant painted into the grey and green of the fog and the smoke, a shadow of an enemy they yet needed to face.

“Yeah, we know.”, Braham grumbled. The norn was crouching in front of him, massive knees pointing toward Tivon. “The Commander was pretty pissed.”

“What?”, Tivon asked, because that made very little sense.

“He rescued you from the toxin.”, Rox said and Frostbite skittered closer toward him, dark, gleaming eyes mustering him curiously. He knew those kinds of eyes. Derry had them. Vail had them. And...

The pinch on his shoulder, painful as it was, was a comfort. A great relief in all this chaos and confusion and rattling trepidation. His hand moved toward his shoulder and he found the hardened shell of the Karka under his palm, stroked over the Karka's legs and received a reassuring chirp in return.

At least...at least this. A little comfort in all the uncertainty that bored into Tivon's chest like a poisoned dart, a tangle of vines that would slowly choke him.

He barely heard Rox when she finished, “...less than happy.”

“I have to find Derry.”, Tivon said urgently and turned his head toward where the fires flickered high above lion's Arch, the smell of smoke sharp and pungent, but Tivon didn't care. He'd wade through rivers of lava if he had to. Before he could rise however a heavy, strong hand clamped down onto his shoulder and pushed him down and he looked up at Braham.

“Tivon, he's smart.”, Braham reminded him, and Tivon's chest _ached_. “He got out, I'm pretty sure”

“But-”

“We can't go back in.”, Rox agreed, her voice soothing. Tivon knew that if anyone understood his _pain_ , the _necessity_ to ensure his companion was alright, it was _her_. “The miasma is too strong. We won't even make it to the plaza.”

“I can't leave him!”, Tivon said, stronger and louder than he had intended. No, no, that was a lie. He had intended to _yell_ , to _scream_ , to shout it out into the world that _nothing_ , that _nobody_ would hold him back from getting to his companion. They were bonded, a symbiosis beyond that of any friendship Tivon had, a stronger force than any other that Tivon knew.

There, among the despair and frustration and utter helplessness, Tivon's eyes wandered and he wondered about the sylvari. Wondered if he too was... If something had happened and by the Pale Tree, by the Ventari's Tablet, by all that the sylvari as a people held dear, if that were to be taken from him too, all in one vicious and grievous blow – he didn't know if he could take it.

“You're no good to him dead.”, Braham said, and even though his voice was firm, it was warm. Tivon heard the words, but they made so little sense, they couldn't... “Come on. The Toxin got you pretty bad.” Braham lifted him from the ground with such ease it was laughable and Tivon could do nothing but trot after them because his legs were too weak to run, his arms were not strong enough to push Braham away (and even if he hadn't gotten a dose from the toxin, he'd never be).

He cast glances over his shoulder, but Braham was relentless and pulled him along until they reached a camp that was filled to the brim with those that had escaped, and they managed to build up a small tent of their own where they slowly settled down. It almost agitated Tivon how his friends tried to smother and mother him, as if he was made from glass.

In this very moment, he might as well have been. His eyes kept searching over the planes, through the crowds and groups of humans, searching for any sign of the hound, and whenever he heard a dog bark or saw the wagging of a tail his chest clenched painfully.

“Tivon.”, Rox suddenly said and his head turned toward her, eyes sharp, hoping... but all he saw was her sympathetic glance and a small bowl of water in her hand. “Here, you need to drink.”

He _needed_ to find Derry, but he couldn't tell her that, not without bursting, not without _screaming_ , and so he took the bowl and stared at the water inside. It was dark, just as the sky over their heads. He must have been out of it for quite some time if it had changed into night. Just...for how long had he been in there? And...why had Sgileas come after him?

He had expected the Commander to abandon him. Not because he was that cold-hearted, no, Tivon didn't think that. But because it was the Commander's duty to save all those citizens, to bring order into the chaos that Scarlet had wrought. It was the Commander these people could and should rely on.

“Where's the Commander?”, Tivon asked slowly, anger drifting away and leaving a hollow hole in his chest. His friends would never permit him to leave, not as long as the Miasma still raged inside the city, and who knew when they would come up with a plan for _that._ While they sat around, waiting, doing _nothing_ , Scarlet was drilling her way underneath Lion's Arch for her ley lines... and who knew what she had planned after.

“Coordinating the Vigil forces.”, Rox answered, her eyes darting around the place. She sat beside him, and Tivon wondered if she too was a little restless in the face of their inability to help.

“Why are you so jumpy?”, Braham asked.

“Can't you hear those explosions?”, Rox asked and Tivon listened, but he couldn't hear a thing. Well, he could hear _some_ things. But he wished the wailing and the cries and the agony around him would cease so that his own wasn't nourished, so that he could slowly grow strong enough to at least _hope_.

“Well, if we don't get blown up, then the miasma will probably kill us.”, Braham shrugged.

“Orr the Clockworks.”, Rox grumbled.

“Or those thrice damned Aetherblades.”

“And don't forget the krait.”

“I am already hearing the song they'll sing about us.”, Braham looked a little dreamy at that, as if it was a prospect worth imagining. Slowly his gaze sobered somewhat. “I wonder if Majory and Kasmeer are still in once piece. They aren't as battle hardened as we are.”

“They'll be fine.”, Rox soothed. “Majory's got a keen eye for trouble, and Kasmeer can hold her own with illusions, surprisingly.”

“That won't help them if they're too busy making lovey eyes at each other.”, Braham grumbled.

“Hey. I remember not so long ago when you were in love too.”

“Yeah.”, Braham agreed disgruntled. “And I regret every minute of it.”

Rox chuckled. “Rejection is a bitter pill, hm?”

Braham made a “Hmph.”, noise, but didn't answer. It was an agreement, of sorts, but the whole conversation brought Tivon to think on the sylvari, and his fingers curled around his necklace almost absent mindedly.

This was a mess. A bloated, Pale Tree-damned mess that Tivon didn't know hot to get out of. He needed to find Derry, needed to find the sylvari.... the Tablet be damned if he was just going to sit around. With a motion he attempted to get up, cup of water discarded on the ground, and Braham cast him a worried glance.

“Hey -”, the norn was about to intervene when the ground shuddered slightly, a thumping noise announcing the large golem before Tivon even saw it. He recognized the magitech plating, the blue light and the asuran girl sitting atop the large golem's shoulder.

“You're here! Good!”, Taimi chirped. “Were you in Lion's Arch? Did you see Scarlet? Is she there? I can't find a single person who saw her there.”

Tivon almost glared at her. “What do you care?”, he snapped, but she was deaf for his tone.

“This could be my last chance to see her in action while still young and cute enough that she won't kill me outright.”

Tivon had the urge to punch something. Preferably something that would be in pain afterwards. “She's killing lots of people, Taimi.”, Tivon grit out, hands clenching into fists. _Derry,_ _just...hold on. “_ Killing them _dead_. It's not a game.”

“I know. She's dangerous. I get it.”, Taimi said, but she didn't _sound_ like she did. “But you can't make gold without breaking a few beakers. I don't want to talk to her anymore. I just want to observe. Surely I could do that!”

“Do not go into Lion's Arch. The miasma will kill you.”, Tivon warned. The asuran girl looked frail as it was, and upon closer inspection Tivon realized that as she sat on the golems shoulders, her legs looked...slightly deformed. Thin, frail, even for someone her size and age. It had to be the reason that she was tied to her golem.

“Oh, all right. I won't go there. I'm not stupid.”, Taimi rolled her eyes. “Besides, Scarlet's not even there.”

“Does anyone know you're out here?”, Tivon asked with a frown.

“No. And you're not going to tell anyone, are you?”, Taimi asked, and for the first time Tivon thought he had found a weak spot. “Besides. Vigil. Right there. And when I'm ready to go home, the gate to Rata Sum is just up a few stairs in the fortress.”

Vigil. Pact. _Sgileas._

Surely _he_ knew what to do in this mess. “Where are you going?”, Braham said behind him, and the norn as well as Rox had risen to their feet to follow him, and possibly stop him if he attempted to go back.

“To see the Commander.”, Tivon murmured. “I can't just...sit around.” _It's killing me_ , he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring the words out. They would give life to the terror that rested and nestled in his mind, and once he allowed that in...

He wasn't sure if he could keep a clear head then.

He swayed slightly as he walked, and Braham was there to steady him, cooing “Easy there.”, whenever Tivon almost stumbled over his own legs, but they didn't try to stop them. Tivon moved upward toward the Vigil keep, barely registered the many tents that held all those that had escaped, the stream of people and the constant chatter, the heavy atmosphere filled with sorrow and loss.

So many. So many people had lost loved ones in this attack. It became clearer and clearer and Tivon's mind slowly sobered when he saw the man empty faces, eyes glazed and distant, staring into campfires, lost. Just...not there.

The uncertainty was the only thing keeping him from being just like that. From staring emptily into the campfire and just letting reality slowly scrape at every conscious thought, melting away every happiness like acid until only the dull pain remained that would never truly go away.

Tivon was glad to see the form of the Commander in the distance. He just saw the strong back, strong for a sylvari at least. Of course in comparison to Braham they were all dainty. “...arrive.”, Sgileas was saying and glanced at Tivon when he came to a halt beside him, swaying slightly. Sgileas eyes were cold, clear, and... _angry_.

The sharp glance Tivon received was almost like a slap to the face. It could very well have been. He shrunk away where he stood, feeling suddenly small and insignificant, and Sgileas was already turning his head away, as if dismissing his presence all-together.

 _By the Pale Tree_ , that was what disappointment looked like.

“The miasma will dissipate. The wind will carry it out over the Sea of Sorrows, but that will take a few days. Until then we must focus on retrieving anyone we can. How stands the research?”

“We haven't been able to elicit an appropriate reaction. The miasma seems resistant to all known anti-toxins.”, a priory member answered and Sgileas nodded.

“Keep at it. Any news from the camp in Lornar's Pass?”

“Filled to the brim.”, a crusader said. “We simply do not have the resources for everyone.”

There was a cold breeze and approaching footsteps and Tivon turned his head, but he was not the only one. “I am sure we can help”, a voice behind them said, and Tivon recognized it from somewhere, somehow...and only when he saw the figure did he realize why.

Firstborn Trahearne stood, sylvari armor covering his bark, yellow eyes gleaming in the dim on the torch light, a small group of vigil, no, _Pact_ , Tivon corrected himself, behind him, and Tivon would have lowered his gaze in reverence, the presence just too much, but the familiar crow and the white feathers, the beak and the dark eyes staring at him from Trahearne's shoulder-

“Vail.”, he croaked, voice breaking mid-way and the Raven jumped upward, glided swiftly and landed on Tivon's outstretched forearm, and Tivon pulled the Raven close to his chest, bend down his head and body and wrapped his arm around the Raven delicately and tenderly and stroked over the feathers. Vail crowed from within the tangle of Tivon's arms, sounding a bit annoyed, and Tivon gave a watery chuckle.

He tried giving the emotion blooming in his chest a name, but alleviation wasn't nearly enough.

When he finally erected himself again he noticed he was standing right beside the two heroes that had vanquished an Elder Dragon. He stood beside those very two that had brought down _Zaithan._ The thought oozed into his mind like thick custard, and his body was the first to answer ina spike of nervousness and anxiety. It was humbling, breath-taking and _bone-crushing_ , just to stand there.

“Marshal.”, Sgileas greeted and the Commander's and Marshal's eyes met.

“Commander.”, Trahearne nodded and stepped closer toward the group, attention on him in a heartbeat. “Brief me, if you would.”

“Of course.”, Sgileas obliged and told him all that had happened, what they had discovered, and why the situation currently was not to be resolved until the miasma has dissipated. Trahearne listened, head inclined, slightly tilted to the side, eyes looking but not seeing, and the thoughts churned in his head.

“I'll send forces toward Lion's Arch to retrieve those that are still inside. I understand that as long as the exposure is short and temporary, the miasma won't cause any harm.”, Trahearne said thoughtfully.

Sgileas nodded. “Of so much the Hylek have assured us. They are the experts on poison the priory have chosen to rely on.”

“Trust well-placed, and warranted.”, Trahearne agreed. “We will also bring Pact forces to the other camps. There is much work to be done, and much medical attention needed. Divinity's Reach has sent out air-balloons for aid.” There was a small pause and Trahearne's eyes wandered and he tilted his head when he saw Tivon, the karka on his shoulder, Vail on his other, Braham and Rox behind him with Taimi sitting atop her massive golem.

“These are those that have attempted to oppose Scarlet thus far.”, Sgileas introduced them briefly with a gesture of his hand that was almost dismissive. “I will take them with me once the Miasma has cleared to take down the Breachmaker, and hopefully, Scarlet with it.”

Trahearne nodded thoughtfully. “Have we any clue as to what Scarlet intends to do once she has tapped the ley lines?”

“No.”, Sgileas shook his head. “She might disturb the flow of magic, but there are a variety of other theories. Nobody is certain what will happen, or what she is after.”

“What is the estimate on the miasma dissipation?”

“Two days, at the earliest.”

Tivon marvelled at the interaction. They spoke in such a focused way, task first and foremost, and everything, _everyone_ else seemed to drift into the background, as if they had ceased to exist. No wonder then, that it almost seemed as if the two of them were a massive force all by themselves, and Tivon was sure that if the Pact had been involved sooner, Scarlet would have been stopped at the Queen's Jubilee, if not earlier. Heck, she wouldn't have dared to laugh into Sgileas' face. He would have skinned her alive.

“Then we'll go.”, Tivon said, throat still stinging and burning from the miasma, and he felt little of the strength that he usually had, but determination was all he needed to give him courage.

Two pairs of eyes fell on him, and suddenly he wished he hadn't spoken at all. It was as though he was looked at by the Pale Tree herself, exalted and great and _intimidating_ to such an extend he had to fight to not hunch and back away.

Sgileas was the first to speak, “You must rest.”, he ordered. “If you are not well in two days time, you will stay behind.”

Sgileas might as well have struck him. Tivon's breath left him, he opened his mouth and _gaped_ . “You can't be-”, he began to protest, but Sgileas eyes were cold and _set_.

“If you are to be a liability, you are of no use in our assault.”, Sgileas said sharply, and Tivon felt it cut deep into his chest. The sting resonated, whirled up a heat like steam and fury and anger welled up inside him and he tried to hide his clenched fists.

“You can't stop me.”, Tivon hissed and took a bold step forward, anger burning away the instinct that yelled at him not to antagonize the Necromancer. “Derry is still missing, and I'll go back into Lion's Arch if it _kills_ me. Approval or no.”

Trahearne was gentle in his movements when he moved in between the two, glancing form one to the other, the air permeated with frustration and anger. “We can not fight amongst ourselves.”, Trahearne said diplomatically and raised his hands to pacify the two parties. “Two days is plenty of time to recover and rest.”

Tivon fought the anger, he really did, and as a last resort he made a _tch_ and turned his head away. How would they understand, exalted as they were, what he felt like? What it felt like to have that bond struggling and flailing like a loose string in the wind, desperate to latch and hold on? To desperately reach out and find _nothing_ , nothing at all resonating within him, as if the bond had been severed, and all that remained was insecurity and doubt and uncertainty?

 _It must be nice_ , Tivon thought bitterly, _to not know what that is like_.

He felt Sgileas' eyes on him, boring and sharp, but he didn't look at him. Didn't lift his gaze. He felt like he was being tested, as if they were assessing his reaction, but is anger made it hard for him to care.

“Tivon.”, Rox said, soothingly, and in that moment he _hated_ that tone. “Two days. Two days is nothing compared to the fact that you could have died.”

“It's not about _me_.”, Tivon hissed and glared at her, meeting sympathetic, large green eyes. “It's about Derry.”

“And we'll find him.”, Braham soothed from his side, and Tivon felt the norns hand encase his shoulder with a warm grip. “We'll turn every rock and house if we have to.”

There was a short pause, it felt as though all eyes were on him, and even though the sting remained, even though the heat of anger and frustration and _despair_ was like a pit in his chest, he realized that they were _right_.

There was nothing he could do right now. Nothing at all except see to it that he would get better, be at his _best_ if he meant to take down Scarlet and find Derry again. His fingers loosened, fists easing, and he took a deep breath before he finally looked up.

Sgileas eyes met his own, and Tivon bit his lip before he continued, “I was told you...came after me.”, Tivon murmured hesitantly, but Sgileas held the gaze, cold and unmoving, like a pillar of ice. “Thank you.”

“You went into the Miasma?”, Trahearne asked and sounded worried. The firstborn turned his head to Sgileas to see if it was true, eyes canvassing the Necromancer's features.

Sgileas sighed. “It's...”, he began, and this was the first time Tivon heard him sound...well, _not_ cold. Not exactly warm either, but more... _gentle_ . The first time that Sgileas _paused._ “I'm fine.”

“Have you seen a mender?”

“They are called medics, here.”, Sgileas dead-panned, and sounded almost annoyed. Almost, because it was feebly and defensive, and had little of the snark his comments usually carried.

“Have you?”, Trahearne insisted, ignoring Sgileas tone entirely as if he hadn't heard, and the short, pregnant pause was all the answer he needed. “That is careless and reckless of you.”

“I am _fine_.”, Sgileas said exasperated, and sounded almost like a child and little like the head-strong sylvari Tivon had come to know. “I was shrouded the whole time.”

Trahearne studied Sgileas for a moment, and the worry in his eyes, the glances over Sgileas features, checking if he was telling the truth, worried, pondering, assessing...

Tivon felt a tug in his chest when he realized what that kind of gaze meant. The worry. The care. To look at someone like that, to be looked at _by_ someone like that... Tivon fought the blush that crept into his cheeks.

He was wrong, right? He had to be.

He _had_ to be.

_Right?_

Trahearne sighed and shook his head. “You are always so reckless.”, Trahearne chuckled and Sgileas made a noise like an annoyed groan and _averted his eyes_.

By the Pale Tree.

Tivon was _right_.

“It was that or leave this idiot to die.”, Sgileas murmured in a feeble defense and nodded toward Tivon and he didn't even have time to protest because Trahearne continued,

“May that be the case,” the firstborn said, “But you are going to see a medic.”

“Trahearne-”

“Right now.”

Sgileas glared at Trahearne, but it held little of the cold heat that Tivon was used to seeing. “Fine.”, Sgileas snapped and Trahearne smiled at his small victory. The firstborn's eyes slowly turned toward Tivon and he felt small once again, as if a heavy burden was about to be placed on his shoulders.

 _Brambles and_ _Vines_ , his head hurt.

“Accompany him, if you would. I am sure your trip there is inevitable, and all the more necessary.”, Trahearne said, voice even and smooth, firm and yet gentle.

“Of course.”, Tivon said, had forgotten his anger in the sudden flush his epiphany had brought. He still felt worried, of course, nothing could ease that away quite so simply, but it was smothered by the fact that his anger had lead him to thoughts that were simply _wrong_.

Trahearne and Sgileas were sylvari, just like him, and they too felt connections to others, had felt sorrow and despair and the terror of impending loss. It was unfair and completely ignorant to believe that Tivon was alone in his feelings, and that nobody else could understand.

“Come on.”, Sgileas grumbled to him and Tivon fell in place after him, while his friends stayed behind after Trahearne wished to hear their recollection of the events.

They moved through the camp, down the ramp toward the tents. He could see the many people hovering and sitting close to the fire still, their gazes just as far away and lost as before, but Tivon had _hope_.

There was silence between them as they walked, and Sgileas didn't even seem to look at him. Tivon wondered how to speak to him, if perhaps he should apologize when suddenly he was much more curious about something else. “Soo....”, he began and gulped, “Are you and the Marshal...?”

Sgileas cast him a questioning glance. “For me to understand the question, you must know that you have to finish it.”

“Well.”, Tivon swallowed. “Are you together?”

Sgileas made a noise like an annoyed sigh. “Why is everyone so fascinated with that?”, Sgileas wondered aloud and Tivon waited patiently for the annoyance to dissipate. “Yes, we are.”

“It's just...”, Tivon murmured and when Sgileas gave him a glance, Tivon wasn't sure the necromancer wouldn't impale him if he said the wrong thing. “You don't seem like the type.”

“The type for what?”

“Relationships?”, Tivon answered feebly, and hoped desperately that Sgileas wouldn't throttle him. Perhaps he shouldn't have intruded upon this. “I can't imagine you hugging anyone, is all.”

“You don't have to.”, Sgileas dead-panned.

“Or kissing.”

“ _You_ _don't have to_.”, Sgileas repeated, exasperated, and Tivon smiled, then.

“Just anything involving-”

“Alright.”, Sgileas snapped. “I am very much capable of understanding the point you are trying to make, without you repeating it over and over again. I will not speak of this, so leave it be.”

“Alright.”, Tivon said, back-paddling. “I didn't mean to annoy you.”

“I doubt you could change it if you _tried_.”

“I...haven't put much effort into it, admittedly.”, Tivon said, smiling once again, and Sgileas rolled his eyes. There was another moment of silence and Tivon took a deep breath, smile fading when he asked, “Why did you come back for me?”

“Why wouldn't I?”, Sgileas immediately shot back, but there was no heat in it. “Despair brings out horrors that we can not best on our own. You would have killed yourself for nothing.” Tivon wanted to argue that _Derry_ wasn't nothing (and fighting the anger as it swelled in his breast), but before he could open his mouth Sgileas continued, almost melancholic, “I know what that is like.”

The anger deflated like a balloon pierced with a sharp, pointy needle. This was the reason his anger was misplaced. This was the reason that Tivon could find hope in this whole mess – because his friends clung to hope just as he did, and they were the stone in the turf as everything threatened to wash him away. “I'm sorry.”, Tivon finally said. “I know my anger is misplaced, I just...”

Sgileas nodded solemnly and this was the first time Tivon felt _understood_. As if this whole time he had been alone in this, in the burst and mixture and _maelstrom_ of emotions that pulled him down and under, and now it felt like being tugged form the depth and brought back to gasp for air.

Strange, that it was Sgileas that made him feel like this.

Tivon almost bumped into a small golem as they passed around the bend of a medic's tent and he caught himself just barely, noticing that the miasma still had some hold on his balance.

The golem staggered back and caught its balance, then proceeded to move toward Sgileas and raised its small, tiny arms toward Sgileas body, a small blue light coming from then that illuminated Sgileas briefly.

“Greetings. Scanning—for—injuries. Results: you—are—in—nominal—health. Diagnosis: you—are—not—yet—dead. Maintain—this—status—for—optimal—existence. “

Sgileas frowned. “Who are you?”

“Current—designation: Heal-o-Tron. This—unit—diagnoses—and—treats—illnesses—and—injuries. Current—assignment: assisting—Lionguard—medical—personnel—during—ongoing—disaster. “

“Current designation? You had other names?”

“Correct. This—unit—was—formerly—designated—Job-o-Tron, Hobo-Tron, and—Ho-Ho-Tron. Health—tip: avoid—eating—rotten—corpses.”

Tivon chuckled at that and the golem turned its attention to him instead, the scan washing over him before Tivon could protest.

“Scanning—for—injuries. Results: you—are—in—critical—health. Diagnosis: you—are—affected—by—miasma. Seek—medical—attention—for—treatment.“

“I will.”, Tivon murmured, but wondered why he tried to assured the golem of that. He doubted the golem cared. Although, it might care more than Sgileas, at least more than Sgileas lead on.

Then again, Sgileas had _saved_ him. He had run after him in Lion's Arch, had followed him into the miasma and dragged him out. Tivon shuddered at the thought. He couldn't remembered, but that scream for his name...

That must have been real.

“Do you know anything about the attack on Lion's Arch?”, Sgileas was asking when Tivon's attention snapped back to reality.

“Negative. This—unit—is—unaffiliated—with—Scarlet—and—her—current—actions. This—unit—must—counteract—her—violence—to—the—best—of—its—programming.”

“Must?”

“Correct. This—unit—was—improperly—found—guilty—of—aiding—Scarlet—in—the—past. This—unit—seeks—to—correct—this—faulty—assertion—using—its—programming.”

“What's your plan?”

“This—unit's—Consortium—basic—programming—contains—an—extensive—medical—and—biological—database. This—unit—will—aid—those—wounded—by—Scarlet.”

“Interesting.”, Sgileas said, and he _did_ sound intrigued

“Oh.”, Tivon suddenly made when suddenly it struck him why the golem looked so familiar. “I remember you. You are Noll's golem.”

“Former—affiliation—confirmed.”

“When I was at Southsun Cove,”, Tivon began to explain when Sgileas raised an eyebrow. “I helped Kiel fix the mess. There was a lot of bad blood between the Consortium and the refugees. Subdirector Noll and Job—O—Tron antagonized the workers back then.”

Sgileas nodded. “Sounds like the kind of information that is utterly irrelevant right now.” Once again Tivon opened his mouth, but Sgileas continued and cut him off, “Go see a medic. They are right through there.”

“What about you?”

“I am under no miasmic influence.”, Sgileas answered. “There is no need for me to crowd this place. I am needed at the Vigil Keep.”

Before Sgileas could turn away Tivon made a grab for his arm and noticed that, despite what he had thought, that the bark beneath his fingers was warm. “Thank you.”, Tivon said earnestly and Sgileas looked from the hand curling around his bicep up toward Tivon's face. “For saving me.”

“Don't make it a habit.”, Sgileas said and Tivon thought he saw the hint of a smile and let go. The Necromancer turned away, leaving him to stand alone, and that was when Tivon realized that under all those sharp edges and thorned remarks, Sgileas actually had a soft heart.

  


The medic dismissed him immediately, telling him that if he was able to walk, there was no place for him among the many beds. The amount of time he had sat there, waiting for someone to assess his state had left an impression like a print on how bad the situation was, and he took the order to leave gladly.

Surprisingly, as he wandered through the tents (Eyes still glazing over the ground, searching for a familiar pelt of ferns, but never finding it) he saw two figures that were all-too-familiar in this whole mess.

As he approached he could overhear Kasmeer and Majory talking. “I don't think we're going to win this battle.”, Kasmeer was saying.

“I know what you mean. For every one we save, three more die. You can stay here, if you'd like. “

“Not if you're going back in. We're a team.”, Kasmeer argued, and Tivon wondered if perhaps he shouldn't interrupt or intrude.

“Even if we only save one more, it's worth it.”, Majory said.

Kasmeer nodded. “Agreed.”, and Tivon slowly approached, thinking better of it. Perhaps the two of them had wondered about him, Braham and Rox, just as they had. It would surely ease their minds to know that they were alright. Well, mostly

Kasmeer lifted her gaze and smiled broadly at him. “Tiv!”, she called and rushed toward him, her arms easily embracing him warmly and he lifted his own hands to return the gesture. When she pulled back she looked over his features, checking for injuries, no doubt. “We haven't seen you, or Braham, or Rox. Are you alright?”

“Yes.”, Tivon said, even though his voice was still throaty and scratched when he spoke. “I...the miasma got to me.” When Kasmeer frowned worriedly, he quickly added, “A bit.”

“We were about to head out to help the Lionguard.”, Kasmeer said. “This is what it's like to have a mission. To be an adventurer. Danger, risk.”

“You don't have to do this, sweetheart.”, Majory said and Tivon hadn't even noticed her approach. Quickly he retracted his hands and hoped that he hadn't crossed some sort of line, but Major barely even noticed and didn't seem to mind.

Thank the Mother Tree. There were too many Necromancer's he needed to be wary of now, surely the universe knew.

“I know I don't. But, being with you has made me want to be a better person.”, Kasmeer said and turned toward Majory. “And this is what better people do.”

“You're already nigh perfect in my eyes.”, Majory smiled.

 _By the Pale Tree_ , was everyone making eyes at one another now? Perhaps Tivon really should have just stayed away.

“Careful there, Miss Delaqua.”, Kasmeer warned with a laugh. “You're going to make me blush.”

“Should I...go?”, Tivon asked hesitantly and both their eyes fell on him.

“Oh, no no.”, Kasmeer redeemed quickly. “I wonder how Rox and Braham are doing.”

“Knowing them, they're probably happy as clams, tearing into Aetherblades or toxic krait.

Kasmeer nodded thoughtfully, a melancholic smile on her face. “I'm really glad we've all met. I have a good feeling about our little guild.”

“It was serendipity, perhaps. Or the gods may still be watching over us after all.”, Majory agreed.

“I choose to believe they are. Praise the Six.”

“Guild?”, was all Tivon could blurt out.

“Well...”, Kasmeer said shyly. “We have fought against Scarlet together. We are a group. A guild. Are we not?”

“I...suppose.”, Tivon said. “I haven't thought of it like that.” When Kasmeer looked chrestfallen, Tivon quickly lifted his hands in a peace-making gesture. “Not that it isn't a wonderful idea. I'd personally love that.”

She gave him a large, beaming smile, and Majory nodded. “Told you.”, the necromancer said.

“We'll settle for a name later.”, Kasmeer said, eye trailing toward Lion's Arch. “First, we have got to rescue some more citizens.”

“Right behind you.”, Majory said, and when Tivon made no attempt to follow them Kasmeer cast him a worried glance.

“Aren't you coming along?”

“I...would. I want to.”, he admitted and lowered his head. “But I would be of no use.” He slowly lifted his hands and looked at them. He noticed how they were shaking, just the tiniest tremble over his bark, he could feel his body swaying from side to side when he didn't stand at least hip-width apart, and every drag of air was still painful. “Could you...”, he said, almost chocking on his request and he lifted his evergreen, round eyes. “Could you look out for Derry?”

“Of course.”, Kasmeer nodded and was there for him in an instant, gentle hand on his shoulder, warm and in a gesture of comfort. “We'll keep an eye out.”

“Thank you.”, Tivon nodded and then the two waded off toward the Lionguad patrol, slowly disappearing over the hills toward the bridge in the distance and the still burning city.

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and curled his hands into tight fists at his sides, eyes glaring up at the massive airship that was nothing but a shade in the darkness of the night.

“We'll get you.”, Tivon vowed. “We are coming to get you, Scarlet.”

 


	15. Retaking Lion's Arch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Phew. So it took me alot of discipline not to post this earlier, and now I can hardly wait to see what you think. I won't say anything just yet except...my barricades are up. I'm safe. I think.

“Is it time yet?”

“No.”

Small pause.

“How about now?”

“No.”

Two minutes later.

“Now?”

“ _No._ ”

“Guys!”, Tivon groaned, exasperated, and Braham and Rox gave him a questioning look. This had been going on for hours, ever since the priory members and some asuran researchers had finally confirmed that the miasma was dissipating and they would be able to enter the city soon.

It had been two days. One and a half, if Tivon was honest, but he too was too energized by the sheer _need_ to finally get back in there and search for his companion to stand or sit still. Instead he had paced up and down, enough so that his soles had made a small path where the grass had been stomped.

This was what they were preparing for. This was the apex of everything they had tried to accomplish. This was their chance to finally take down Scarlet.

 _Please let her be on the Breachmaker_ , Tivon thought.

The _Breachmaker_ was a name given to the massive drill that was still working in Sanctum Harbour's waters, digging deep into the ground for ley lines. Nobody knew what would happen once Scarlet reached the ley lines, but they all were damned sure of one thing:

They'd _know_ the second she would hit them.

And so far, that had not happened.

“Is there anything Scarlet doesn't do well?”, Braham cursed. He too was pacing, massive shoulders tense and ready, and he had unsheathed his mace about twelve times now to make sure it was right where he had left it.

“Make friends?”, Rox offered and Braham paused.

“Good point.”, he grumbled.

Tivon heard the explosions, sometimes even shouts and cries from the distance. The Lionguard as well as Pact members had swarmed into the city to retake it, and the effort had been going on for what felt like _hours_ now. The Miasma was allegedly cleared enough that they could get inside, but Sgileas had ordered them to wait.

And wait they did.

Kasmeer and Majory sat huddled together. The Mesmer looked astoundingly grim and determined, whereas Majory looked calm, just like she always did. Rox was distracting herself by giving Frostbite basic commands, heeling and sending him around their small round campfire.

And they waited.

And waited.

And _Waited_.

So long in fact that Tivon was about to shout _“Damn all of this!”_ and charge right in, and he _knew_ Braham would eagerly follow him, while Rox would be left with no choice _but_ to follow. Kasmeer and Majory would rush after them, _him_ , and attempt to stop him, but they'd follow him. He knew they would.

But he waited.

And finally, _by the Pale Tree finally!,_ Sgileas came marching toward them and he gave them a curt nod that was all the confirmation Tivon needed.

“We have a way in.”, Sgileas said. “The city is under siege, and in the chaos we'll slip by, hopefully unnoticed. The priory will establish a portal that brings us all the way up to the _Breachmaker_.”

“Is Scarlet there?”, Tivon asked and Sgileas eyes met his.

“I do not know. Let's go and find out.”

“By Wolf's teeth, finally!”, Braham hissed out and rolled his shoulders. “Let's smack some krait while we are at it.”

There wasn't much of smacking anything. They sneaked past the lines of the Pact and the Lionguard that fought the attackers back bravely and valiantly, going unnoticed by Scarlet's allies up until they reached the portal. It was atop a cliff, the sight on the _Breachmaker_ clear before them as it twisted and turned, water gusting into Sanctum Harbor.

All of Lion's Arch...it was in ruins. Tivon didn't even recognize it, partly because of the destruction, but also because of the thick veil of dust that rose into the air, casting a darkness over the city. The sun was up in the sky, glaring down through the curtain of smoke and ash and dust, bathing everything in red light.

As if the whole city bled.

The atmosphere between them was heavy and they all unsheathed their weapons before they entered. It was like slowly wading through the cold brush of a waterfall and then Tivon stood on a large platform, cold, even and solid metal underneath his feet that _vibrated_ and hummed.

He could hear faint noises, cries and screams and slowly he walked toward the edge and cast a look down.

Below him the drill bored and spun into the water, creating a massive maelstrom at its location. Tivon remembered that the shores of Lion's Arch had been clean, that the waters had been blue and crystal clear, but under the red hue and the darkness of the curtain hanging in the air the water below looked like churning dried earth.

From up here the destruction of Lion's Arch was all that more visible. He barely heard his companions approach, Kasmeer's gasp almost falling on his deaf ears. The grip on his sword tightened and in the distance he could make out flickers of reflected armor and lightning, and knew that they were the only hope of this battle turning around.

“Stop sightseeing.”, Sgileas snapped from astoundingly far away. Tivon turned back around and saw that the Necromancer had moved across the large platform toward a heavy pair of metallic doors. They followed him as he opened them, expecting a trap, guards, about absolutely everything – and were met with nothing.

There was a room, large and round and blistering with devices and electricity. There was a large screen on a small platform that was connected by a ramp, and down below, fingers cruising over a pad below, was no other than -

“Ta!”, she made, loudly and in a singing voice, without even turning around. “You have found me! What a surprise.”

Fact was, she _didn't_ sound surprised.

Not that Tivon cared. He wrung his bow from his shoulder, knocked in an arrow lest anyone could stop him and fired at her, half expecting a shield to poop up, a current of electricity to evaporate his strike – but the arrow flew through and latched itself into her shoulder, sinking into her back.

She gasped, body hunching forward slightly, and then she turned around with fury glistening in her eyes, the red foliage atop her head slightly dishevelled, but nothing would ever look quite as _mad_ as her gaze. “You!”, she growled, eyes set on Tivon and she stumbled away from the console, and they were all running down the ramp now, attempting to catch her as she made her way toward a small, round room that held so many screens Tivon only ever saw the light flickering, and then Scarlet succumbed at the threshold, breathing rapidly.

They approached, one group, staring down at the sylvari that had caused all this pain and destruction, and slowly she turned around to look at them over her shoulder with menace in her eyes.

“Be careful.”, Majory cautioned. “Just because she's down doesn't mean she's out.”

“All together then?”, Kasmeer asked.

“All together.”, Rox agreed with a nod of her head. “Let's end this for good.”

“You are about to get your wish, Rox.”, Braham grumbled. “Looks like the Stone warband is just within your grasp.”

“As is glory for you, Braham.”, Rox said evenly. “We'll do this together.”

“Jory...”, Kasmeer murmured, voice low. “I have a -” a hiccup interrupted her and she looked startled, “I have a bad feeling about....”, another hiccup, and Majory interrupted,

“Don't worry. I've arrested plenty of scum like her.”

As they stood in front of Scarlet, the female sylvari finally spoke. “Just look at you.”, she huffed, that crazed smile never leaving her lips. Tivon could see the tip of his arrow pointing out from her chest. He regretted not hitting her heart. “All you...heroes.” But then again, he'd never thought to actually hit her. “And here, at the center, little old me. Aren't you even curious about _why_ I did it?”, she asked, almost spitting the word out. “All this chaos and destruction?”

Braham twirled his mace and stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. “It doesn't matter now.”, he growled. “You're done.”

“We'll stand together.”, Rox said, determined, claws curling around her bow.

“Yeah! We're Tyrians.”, Braham said. “And we don't like getting pushed around.”

Scarlet let out a chocked laugh hat was interrupted by a coughing fit. If Tivon had not seen what she had done, perhaps he would have felt pity for her. “So what now?”, Scarlet asked. “You big, strong heroes are going to take me to jail?”

“Something like that.”, Majory answered coolly and approached.

“Jory, be careful.”, Kasmeer warned and Majory took her axe, barely two steps away from Scarlet,

“I'll do something, alright. I'll end this. For good.”

“That's it.”, Scarlet said, glaring up at the Necromancer. “Come and get me, if you dare.”

They should have seen it coming. They _had_ seen it coming, but yet nothing had stopped them from approaching carelessly anyhow, even though Tivon wasn't certain they could have avoided this if they had tried.

If only he had hit her heart, instead. If the sylvari female even had such a thing.

Scarlet raised her hand when Majory lifted her axe, and it looked like a normal, defensive position, a last, desperate attempt to save herself, but instead there was a charge, a loud blast and Tivon's body was forced back against the cold metal floor.

He heard a scream, a cry, and a grunt, and he rose to his feet, ears ringing with a sharp, high noise. For a brief moment he was disoriented, his sight shifted and he heard the sizzling of electricity in the air, the discharge of lightning, and the crackling of Scarlet's laughter.

His hand was empty, bow gone, blasted to the Pale-Tree-knows-where, but his sword lay on the ground beside him and he bowed down to grab it, the hilt underneath his palm oddly calming. They ground began to shake, the _Breachmaker_ trembling and rumbling, and Tivon fought to catch his balance.

As his arms flailed to the side he noticed just what Scarlet had done, and his gut twisted and turned painfully while his chest clenched tightly.

“Braham!”, Rox cried. She knelt beside the norn who was attempting to push himself onto one elbow, his leg twisted a completely wrong way. “Talk to me.”, Rox urged. “Your leg...”

“...Is broken.”, Braham finished for her through gritted teeth. “I know.” he groaned and his face contorted in pain and he took a deep breath. “I'll be okay...Go. Go get her.”

“What? Go? No.”, Rox said, shaking her had, green eyes widening. “I can't leave you here like this. It's too dangerous. We have to get you out of here.”

“Go, Rox.”, Braham urged. “It's your chance to get in the warband. You have to.”

“I don't have to do anything.”, Rox argued and stood. “I am not leaving you alone in such a vulnerable position.”

On his other side he heard Kasmeer hiccup, sobs filling the air. “Jory?”, she asked, and the way she asked...hesitantly, uncertain, _afraid._

 _No_ , Tivon thought. _Oh no no no._

“Jory!”, Kasmeer cried. “Oh sweet Dwayne help her, she's not...” Another sob, a hiccup, and then Kasmeer rose, tears staining her cheeks, eyes red from crying, face contorted in anger. “You monster!”, she screeched, and Tivon had never seen her like this.

With her fury she cast illusions, so many of them Tivon only saw the glimmer of purple over the grey of the _Breachmakers_ interior, and Scarlet cried, “Get back! This is my drill. Mine!” and threw small devices at the many approaching Kasmeer's that detonated in the air with a loud, sharp banging noise like shrapnel's. “I'll take you all down with me if I have to!”, Scarlet screamed.

There was one that had somehow managed to get through this unscathed. To get through this untouched. Who now just suddenly stood in front of Scarlet and dematerialized into a thick cloud of darkness and shadows that lapped into the air, hissing and lurching, and from between Tivon could see the purple glow, the finality in Sgileas's eyes, and then the sliver of the scythe as it descended down.

The blade cut into Scarlet, right through her chest and plunged free, breaking away bark and opening the fibres until the sap flowed toward the dark metallic floor. Scarlet's voice cracked, faded and she fell back, her outstretched arm falling limply toward the ground.

The most disturbing thing was that she was _smiling_. Even as she drew her last breath, even as it stuttered through he chest and she chocked on her last words, she was _smiling_. Tivon couldn't hear what she said, not over the sudden rumbling and earth-shattering roar that came from beneath.

The whole _Breachmaker_ trembled, and Tivon felt it rather than saw it. That sudden burst and jolt of energy somewhere far far below his feet, swirling and breaking free, ushering and rising into the air unconstrained. The drill had hit its mark.

It felt like a cold that washed over Tivon's skin, like reversed waterfall that drenched him from his feet to his head, grasping and overwhelming with magic and energy. It flowed upward, drifted and shifted, and then it was gone like the breeze of a wind.

Everything shuddered and trembled, the ground so unstable Tivon fell to on his fours and couldn't keep on standing, the metal made an almost aching noise and just when Tivon thought that they might die here, that the energy from the ley line might tear this construction apart, the metal beneath his knees and fingers slowly stopped to shake and he trusted himself enough to stand.

Sgileas clasped his scythe into the holster on his back with a graceful movement and marched toward him, looking as nonchalant as ever – as if he had not just taken down the crazed Scarlet.

Behind Tivon Jory made a strangled groaning noise and Kasmeer whirled around, almost flying toward her in a hurry. “Jory!”, she cried, and another hiccup breached her throat. “Oh Gods, are you Okay?” She fell down onto her knees beside the necromancer, eyes searching, hoping...

Rox had carried Jory away from any further danger and dragged Braham back as well. She was still hovering close to the norn, and Tivon felt Sgileas approach slowly behind them.

Kasmeer lifted Jory into her arms, staring at her face intently, watching and waiting for a sign, and when Jory's eyes stirred and blinked open, it was as though the sun had come out from behind stormy rain clouds. She pressed Jory's head close with a delighted and content expression and then, without even so much as a warning, Kasmeer leaned down and kissed Jory on the lips.

Needless to say that this bold act surprised not only Jory, but the rest of them as well, and Tivon averted his eyes, didn't want to stare on such an intimate moment. When Kasmeer leaned back and broke the kiss, she looked utterly relieved. “Oh Jory.”, she mumbled. “I thought you were....I thought...”, the was a pause, a sharp inhale of breath and then Kasmeer made a noise like a sob.

Jory lifted her hand to cup Kasmeer's face and smiled wearily up at her. “Hush, love.”, she hummed. “I'm Okay. Rox worked some battlefield magic on me.” When Kasmeer didn't seem to calm down, she continued, “It's Okay, honey. I'm going to be Okay.”

That, finally, seemed to bring Kasmeer down.

“Guess it's a good thing you stayed behind, huh?”, Braham made and grinned up at Rox.

She slapped his shoulder with barely any force and grinned, revealing her talons. “Definitely a good thing, my friend. Definitely a good thing.” The last she repeated more for herself, as if only now she realized what it meant for her dream to join Rytlock's warband; that the opportunity was gone. That she would remain a gladium.

Good. This was good. Jory was alright, Braham would be alright, Scarlet was dead and...

A bark startled all of them. It was loud, bellowing, _happy_ and _eager_ , and Tivon turned his head. From behind a console at the far back came Derry. _His_ Derry, his hound, the sylvari fern hound that he had left behind and Tivon opened his mouth, agape and fell to his knees, opened his arms wide and only brought out a broken “Derry?”, before the hound sprinted towards him, jumping happily on all fours, tapping loudly and then, just before the hound came to crash into Tivon's chest, just as he was about to sling his arms around that familiar pelt of ferns and bring his fingers through them, _just when_ he felt glee and excitement and _joy_ -

Sgileas came up beside him, gripped the scythe on the holster on his back and before Tivon could utter a word, before he could lift a hand to stop him, before he could do _anything_ -

Sgileas cut Derry in two.

  


  


  


  


  


  


Tivon's arms were still raised into empty air. His body had frozen, stiffened, chilled down to the fibres that kept him together.

It all just...it didn't make any sense.

It _didn't make any sense_.

It was right there, in front of his eyes. The glitter and glamor of mesmer magic, the shattering of a mesmer illusion, the sound of clattering glass and the form of Derry distorted and dispersed into thin air, disappearing like an image from a dream.

Tivon felt heavy. Laden. Silent. Stricken. He looked, agape, _shocked_ , at where Derry had been, at where the illusion had dissipated and shattered, and he wanted to ask, _how how how_ and _why why why_ when Sgileas moved again, swinging the scythe over the side, over his head, turning fluidly and the striking into thin air -

and hitting _something_.

The scythe clanked loudly, screeching at sudden contact, halting in the middle of _nothing_ , and then, slowly appearing as if slowly distorting into existence, was the sylvari.

 _The_ sylvari.

He had lifted a staff in the air that glowed and blinked almost furiously with a bright, white light, colors dancing around the shaft as if a rainbow had been drawn to it, and Sgileas pressed his other hand against the shaft of his scythe and _pushed_.

The sylvari lifted his other hand as well, pushed against Sgileas force and chuckled. “Well.”, the sylvari said and _smiled_. “This is awkward.”

“Who are you?”, Sgileas seethed and narrowed his eyes.

The sylvari made a tutting noise and shook his head and pushed Sgileas away, taking a few steps back of his own to create a more healthy distance. “You were able to sense me. Trahearne taught you well.”

Sgileas' eyes narrowed at the mention of the firstborn and he _growled_ , the sound coming from deep within is chest, vibrating and rumbling. “ _Who are you?”_ , Sgileas demanded, scythe still in hand, body tense and ready to strike, the shadows whipping forward from his back.

The sylvari swirled the staff in his hand in a demonstration of skill and grace and control, and the colors swished by in an astounding cascade, arching after the shaft as if drawn toward it. That weapon...it wasn't a normal staff. It was imbued and dripping with powerful magic, just like the very aura those two emitted.

With a sigh the sylvari shook his head and Tivon watched, apprehensive, not understanding... What was going on? Why had Derry shattered? What was the sylvari doing here?

“My name is Derwen.”, the sylvari said and erected himself, letting the butt of the staff clank to the metal floor and a spark of white blew free. “I am also known as the Count of Thorns.”

“Nightmare Court.”, Sgileas hissed and made another move to attack, and this time Tivon moved without meaning to. His body just did, jumping to his feet, walking right in and he grasped Sgileas arm with both his hands and pulled Sgileas arm back.

“Stop!”, Tivon cried and Sgileas yanked his arm free with a growl and pushed Tivon aside, a whip of shadow lashing across his cheek with a sharp hiss. Tivon gasped and lifted his hand, felt the cut there sharp and deep, sap flowing freely down toward his chin, trickling over his fingers. For a second he stared at his hand and then at Sgileas, disbelieving. When Sgileas' eyes snapped back to Derwen and he made another attempt to attack, Tivon jumped in between, stretched out his arms and stood his ground and knew that if Sgileas wanted, he'd simply run him through.

But Sgileas stopped and glowered. “Get out of my way.”, Sgileas demanded with ice in his tone, and Tivon's body screamed for him to run, run _run_ , but he couldn't, there was no way that he could, not when Derwen was in danger, not when -

Laughter.

Behind him, Derwen _laughed_.

It was nothing like that soft, rumbling chuckle that he sometimes elicited, it wasn't that lively laughter, the cheerful one, no.

This one was cruel, as if to say, _Here it is, I have told you so_ , and Tivon turned his head feeling...something.

And nothing at all.

“ _What would you do if I told you I would disappear if I did?”_

“ _Then don't tell me.”_

“ _You will regret that decision.”_

“ _That will be for me to decide.”_

Derwen. Derwen. Der....Derry.

No.

No, no no no no.

Derwen's laughter ceased and he smiled at Tivon broadly. “I have to thank you, Tivon.”

_Stop smiling like that, don't..._

“Without you, I would have never escaped.”

 _Stop. Please, stop_. By the Pale Tree, he could not take this.

“The hound you found?”, Derwen asked and sauntered closer, and Tivon shivered like a leaf in the wind, felt as if even the slightest brush of air came, he'd be blown away. His knees almost knocked together, his eyes were wide, his face pale, and he couldn't bring himself to speak as his jaw trembled. He didn't remember turning, but at some point, he must have, because he was facing Derwern, facing the pain and the hurt. “Me. That was me. I was Derwen long before I was Derry, and your instincts _knew_. But you ignored them. You ignored them and proved the perfect tool to escape. Have I not repaid you?”

_Stop. Don't say it. Don't do this. Don't make light of this._

“Tell me, Tivon.” Another step, the air was stifling and cold at the same time, and Tivon couldn't breathe. Tears rushed into his eyes, his brain emptied out, blank, _bare_. “Haven't you enjoyed my company?”

Tivon wanted to disappear. He knew his friends were there, were watching, and that they were staring, disbelieving, most likely hating him, now. But Tivon couldn't move. He just felt the tightness in his chest that constricted his breathing, his body that refused to obey him as it trembled in the onslaught of emotions that whirled through him, and right here, right now....

He wished he'd have never been brought into the world.

Derwen was so close now Tivon could smell lavender and lotus, could feel that power ebbing from him in waves, crashing and churning and ready to pull him under, to make him drown. A dark hand lifted, long, lithe fingers that reached out for Tivon's cheek where a tear had broken free and Tivon couldn't stop it, couldn't make his body move away.

He stood like an animal in a trap, and Derwen was the hunter, ready to make the killing blow.

But Sgileas moved, scythe descending down in between them, and Derwen jumped back, white-and-black eyes snapping back toward the Necromancer, mirth faded into thoughtful assessment. Sgileas stood in front of Tivon, almost protectively, but Tivon didn't know what to do. He didn't know what that meant. What this meant.

“What do you want?”, Sgileas asked.

“Is it not obvious?”, Derwen smiled lazily. “Although I must say, I am no true Courtier. The art of seduction is too subtle for most my kinsmen. Call me a pariah, if you wish.”

Tivon felt a hand on his shoulder and almost jumped, turned his head in a haze and was met with Kasmeer's eyes, full of tears and pain and _hurt_ , but...but not betrayal.

“I am so sorry.”, she sobbed and Tivon didn't understand. Why was she apologizing? When would the world start making sense again? “I...I felt something odd about Derry. I knew something ...wasn't right.”

_Stop._

“I am sorry.”

Tivon stepped away. He couldn't bear her sympathy, he couldn't bear her words. There was nothing to forgive, because it was not her mistake. It had not been hers to make.

It had been his. His and his alone.

“ _I will be the judge of that.”_

He would like to laugh. And cry. Curl into a tiny, tiny ball and just sink into unfeeling oblivion, if only it were that simple.

If only he could.

“Why did you flee the Court?”, Sgileas asked and Derwen let the staff swirl through his fingers, creating another moving shift of colors that twisted through the air.

“I stole this.”, Derwen grinned and lifted his hand to touch the staff's head ever so lightly, ghosting over it in reverie. “The bifrost is legendary, after all. But,” the sylvari smiled up at Sgileas, “As entertaining as fighting you would be – and challenging, no doubt – the outcome of such is of no interest to me. My work here is done.”

“Derwen.”, Tivon said, surprising not only himself but all those around him, and he took a step past Sgileas' side toward the mesmer, but he didn't even know what he had wanted to say. Those eyes came to rest on him, and he felt lost. So very, very lost.

Their time together came rushing over him like a wave that crashed and drove him under. Those very eyes stared at him that had trapped and captured him. Those eyes that he loved, that could so easily strip him of everything that he was and rip the fibres and bark from his insides, eyes that could leave him completely vulnerable and bare.

He'd given everything, and now Derwen was taking everything. And Tivon...he wanted to be angry. He wanted to believe that he could be. But whenever he tried to conjure anger from the pain...there was nothing there. Just a hallow echo answering as if the fire had burnt out. As if the fire of hatred had never existed in the first place. Emptiness.

And in there, in that deep deep fall, Tivon realized that he could not hate Derwen. Not for being Nightmare Court, not for playing with him, not for anything. With everything scraped raw, with everything pulled out and tugged from his chest, all that remained...

Tivon realized that Derwen would have to take his life to take this away. That slow creeping serenity, the tranquillity in his chest, a force so much greater than Tivon. Deep within, under all that darkness, Tivon still felt. He still, even after this, he still loved Derwen.

And he wanted to say it. Say _something_. Anything.

But what could he say?

_Stay with me?_

_I love you?_

_Don't go?_

All he felt was the desperation tugging in his chest, that if he didn't intervene, if he didn't stop this...

Derwen would be gone.

He'd go, and Tivon...

Despite the pain that made Tivon want to double over, Tivon didn't want to let him go. Despite the ache in his chest, despite the numbness of his mind, despite his heart and soul shattering and breaking open...

He _loved_ Derwen.

“Derwen, I...”, Tivon said again, voice low and broken, and the tears clung to the corner of his eyes, his legs trembled and he ignored Sgileas arm that raised to stop him. “I don't... Why? Why?”

Derwen's smile was a thorn in his heart, and Tivon understood why. He understood why they called him the Count of Thorns, he understood why Derwen was a pariah. He suddenly understood so many things, that he had been a fool, a trusting, ignorant, _utter_ fool, and that he paid for his mistake now, in full. Because this was all he had had, he had given all and now...

It was to be taken. All of it.

“I do what pleases me.”, Derwen said and tilted his head to the side, and if the distance had not separated them, he might have reached out to cup Tivon's cheek. “But tell me, Tivon. What better possible way to poison the dream than to corrupt the most benevolent and innocent of hearts?”

“You demon!”, Kasmeer screeched behind him and she jumped forward and astoundingly – surprisingly – Tivon stepped into her way before he realized he had moved and pushed her back. Just enough to break her momentum, enough to make her stumble just the slightest. She huffed, tears still clinging to her cheeks, her eyes wide, and he only now noticed that he was panting, _hard_.

What was he doing?

 _I can't. I can't let something happen to him. I can't_.

 _He's hurting you!_ , a voice inside him shouted, one that tried to rattle the wrath and anger awake, but it was put to slumber with solemnity and truth. A truth said in three simple words that were never simple at all.

“Don't.”, Tivon brought out brokenly and Kasmeer trembled in her frustration and anger and confusion, her shoulders hunched forward, white, pale finger clutching the staff. He knew she was trying to protect him. To protect her friend, because perhaps some part of her understood his pain. But he couldn't allow her to hurt him. He couldn't.

“Tivon, he -”, she began, but he cut her off.

“I know!”, he screamed, and the echo of his own voice was unnerving. Disquieting. Maddening. He knew that what he was doing was utterly moronic. That his love made him blind. That he didn't know where this would take him and he was still willing to walk this road. He'd walk it simply because... of Derwen. “I...I know.”, he said, calmer, slower, quieter. “But I can't let you hurt him. I... _can't_.”

Silence.

It settled over them, stifling and thick, and every breath resounded deafeningly loud, echoing, almost. The moment lasted for half an eternity and Tivon knew that there was no turning back, that...that if he chose to stand beside Derwen against his friends...

 _By the Pale Tree_.

He couldn't. He couldn't do that. Even with all the love and forgiveness he carried, he couldn't follow Derwen. The Nightmare was wrong. And he could never bear to hurt his friends.

And he couldn't let Derwen go.

It was tearing him in two. Splitting him. As if lightning had struck a tree and the bark splintered and split and burned...to leave only a crisp and ash behind.

“Oh, Tivon.”, Derwen said. Tivon turned around like an absolute moron, expecting...he didn't know what. Perhaps guilt? Sympathy? Pity? Those white-and-black eyes trapped his own, made is body stiffen as they captured him, and his breath hitched. “You _adorable_ idiot.”

Tivon couldn't breathe.

His insides fractured,

cracked,

_splintered_

and shattered.

Strewn over the course of the wide, open sea.

He saw it only from the corner of his eyes. Hazy. Dazed. Stunned.

Sgileas jumped, scythe aimed and ready, swinging it through the air in an arc. Derwen raised the Bifrost to block the blow, and Tivon -

Tivon, the adorable, good-hearted, and moronic idiot -

Jumped in between.

He raised his hands against Sgileas scythe, ready to stop them with his very body if he had to, ready to sacrifice what little he had to give in order to save what he held dear. Even when everything around him had stopped making sense. Even when the world spun and twisted and turned far beyond his control, slipping through his fingers, he couldn't allow anything to tear his heart-piece away.

Not his companions. Not his friends. Not his lover.

He expected to die. Part of him...it wanted to. The scythe came in such a powerful arc that it would cut through Tivon's torso and leave him torn and open, bleeding out on the cold, metal floor.

But that never came. Two arms raised beside his head, a glimmer of dazzling white over him and the scythe clanked loudly against the Bifrost once again, sending sparks of all colors to descend upon the metal floor.

Tivon gaped at the staff over his head.

Derwen had protected him.

 _Derwen protected me_ , he thought numbly.

The arms came down, the staff was across Tivon's chest and he was pulled back. He stumbled with a gasp, his back fell against Derwen's chest, the familiar scent rising in his nose, and he wanted nothing more for everything to have been a terrible joke and a lie, that Derwen would kiss cheek and chuckle into his ear, but there was no such thing. The staff pressed Tivon back tighter, squeezing the air from him, and he felt a brush of hot air on the shell of his ear.

“You don't get to die.”, Derwen whispered and Tivon shuddered and trembled. “I have told you that I am interested in keeping you alive.”

“Why?”, Tivon breathed, not even attempting to break free. This was truth, then. This was reality. This was happening. Derwen was Nightmare Court. Derwen was a mesmer, powerful enough to shapeshift. Derwen had only played with him, him and his feelings. To Derwen, he was nothing but a tool.

“Because through you, I can poison the Dream. Through you, Nightmare will enter the Dream easily. The pain will make the Nightmare an open door.”

Tivon's breath hitched and he very nearly chocked when suddenly Derwen loosened his grip, the staff was gone and Tivon was shoved forward. He nearly stumbled over his own legs, crashing right into Sgileas who extended an arm to catch him, and he trembled and shook so much he couldn't regain any control at all and clung to Sgileas for life.

“Goodbye, Tivon.”, Derwen said and Tivon turned his head, he wanted to shout, to scream, to _defy_ the very powers at work, but he didn't have any strength left. It was all sapped from him just like the warmth, and he felt bitterly cold and abandoned and _hurt_.

“Derwen...”, Tivon croaked, pleading, supplicating... “Don't...” _Don't leave me._

“I may be gone, but I'll never leave. I will be with you, always.”, Derwen promised, and Tivon's tears welled up in his eyes. “I am now the thorn in your heart.”

With a wave of Derwen's hand a purple ring appeared beneath him and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. The magic burst into a million tiny sparks, flew into the air and disappeared, dissipating before their very eyes.

There was a moment of silence in which the world seemed to fall in on itself, in which the _Breachmaker_ seemed to come crashing down around him, in which gravity was suddenly ten times stronger, pulling him to his knees, but the arm holding wouldn't let him, and even though he wanted nothing more than to cry, to fall on his knees and scream and cry and wail, he couldn't.

“Tivon.”, Sgileas said from above him an for the first time through all this, Tivon wondered what the Necromancer thought. What his friends were thinking. They must think him a traitor, a betrayer, to be with someone like Derwen, and even if they knew that he had been ignorant, that would be no excuse.

“I didn't know.”, Tivon said, voice bland and empty, his gaze the very same. He stared at where Derwen had been, and he suddenly felt infinitely lonely and...empty. Cold. As if all of his insides had been pulled out and only left a hallow husk of his body. He shook his head and clutched at Sgileas arm.

He wouldn't beg. If Sgileas would kill him now....perhaps that was for the best. He had expected Sgileas to run him through with his scythe when Derwen had shoved him toward the Necromancer, and part of him would have accepted that, would have gladly taken that over the agony of...of...of _this_. “Tivon.”, Sgileas tried again when Tivon had not lifted his head, but this time, he did.

His everygreen eyes, round and usually filled with curiosity and light, were glazed, glittering and empty. Void of any emotion at all, except for the tears that trickled over the side of his face, barely a watery precursor for what kind of pain would come to consume him soon. “I didn't know.” Tivon said, voice laced with sorrow, and it wasn't an _excuse_ for anything. It was his admission of his failure, admission that this, all of this....

It was his fault.

How had he not _known?_ Derwen had always said that he would regret it. And yet Tivon had always continued. He had dared and gone on and on and on...ignorant. Naive.

In love.

Sgileas grip on his arm tightened painfully and Tivon grimaced. The pain was sharp, an edge that brought him from his spiralling thoughts back into reality, if only briefly. “You must fight the Nightmare.”, Sgileas said, eyes urgent and direct, cutting into him like a sword. “Do not allow it in.”

Tivon choked on his breath. “But...”, he started and shook his head. “I can't. I don't know how.”

“You _must_.”, Sgileas urged, gripping _even harder_ , and Tivon winced. “I will not allow you to poison the dream.”

It wasn't a threat. It was the plain truth. Sgileas cherished the Pale Mother and her teachings, the memories gained from the Dream, their connection the the world prior to their awakening and even when woken. Even when wandering they could feel it calling out to them, eagerly lapping up knowledge and experiences...

To poison something so vast and wonderful... Tivon didn't want that. He didn't want that, but how would he go about doing that? How would he make it out of this alive and not be hurting to the point where nightmare and pain crossed the threshold to the dream?

 _Oh_ , his head was spinning. Feelings and thoughts swirling and making it impossible to think. He swayed, but Sgileas tugged at him, kept him upright, the expression on his face one of determination.

“Leave him alone!”, Kasmeer suddenly cut in, and she was right beside them, barging into the conversation, but Tivon was too numb and dulled to feel grateful. To feel anything except the sheer terror that he was to be a tool in bringing nightmare into the dream, and that he didn't know how to stop it.

Through his suffering, through his pain, through the purity of his love he'd carry all that agony into the Dream of Dreams. He'd live, he knew he would, that even though he felt like the world had stopped moving it hadn't, that everything would continue, that nothing was over, and while he lived he'd have to fight that pain and ache till the last of his days – and he didn't know how he would do that. Without poisoning the dream.

“Stay out of this.”, Sgileas seethed at her, and Kasmeer flinched back. “You understand nothing of us sylvari. The Dream of Dreams permeates our life, it carries our experiences and knowledge, and every blemish upon it is an irrevocable cut that will never heal. The Pale Mother speaks to us through it, she gives us aid and guidance. Do not interfere.”

The warning was sharp and keen, and Kasmeer looked horrified for a moment and opened her mouth, glancing between them, fighting with her need to help Tivon and comfort him in his sorrow and the fact that she truly understood very little of sylvari and the Dream they so often spoke of.

Tivon chocked out a sob. How would he do this? How was he supposed to get through this? He wanted to do what Sgileas asked of him, he _didn't want_ to poison the Dream, but...

 _By the Pale Tree_ , it hurt. In his chest, it felt as if something was tearing him apart. As if a deep part that had festered into the fibres that kept him together were suddenly ton from his chest through his bark, as if the world and gravity itself had suddenly decided to work against him. “Derry.”, he chocked, and knew at once that Derry had been a lie.

An illusion, a feint, nothing. _You would have died for nothing_ , Sgileas had said, back then, and Tivon let out a wail and his knees gave out, and Sgileas caught his body in his arms as he shook and sobbed and _cried_ , the pain breaching through his throat, rattling through his body.

 _I am so sorry_ , Kasmeer had whispered.

 _You would have died for nothing,_ Sgileas had said.

They had all _known_ , and he, he hadn't. He'd just continued, ignorant and stupid, believing beyond hope, just blindly putting his faith in Derwen because of _love_.

He didn't blame them. He had nobody to blame but himself.

But the fact that Derry was not real, that the time he had spend with the hound... it was all nothing. His Dream came back to him, the one he had had upon his awakening, a hound shattering on darkened ground, and now...

Now Tivon understood what it had meant.

But even though he knew Derry wasn't real, that he never had been, that the times Tivon had felt that those two eyes were like those of a sylvari they _actually had been_ , that the times he'd been close to him and fed him and petted him and caressed him and carried him -

He'd bonded with _nothing_.

And yet that nothing had been something, it had been part of _everything_ , and it had been a part of him, all that he had been, all that he had been willing to give. Only to realize it was never his, it was never there, and that the bond, flailing uselessly in the wind, stripped from its connected party and torn, that...that was real.

A bond that was unattached and flaring wildly and freely, and it hurt him more than he could describe. It felt like someone had punched into his chest and was squeezing him from the inside, _hard_ , with a cold, relentless steel hand. It felt like a cord around his throat, constricting and cutting into his bark, it was the cold that dragged over his skin.

He was shaking, crying without care of being seen, without care of being heard. He felt hurt, _broken,_ his fingers digging into Sgileas skin, and he knew he must be hurting him because he could feel the bark giving in, but Sgileas didn't pull away. If anything he jerked Tivon closer, made him look up and the sob that tore from his throat cracked.

“Fight it, Tivon.”, Sgileas urged, voice low and determined, and Tivon just stared with glistening eyes, knees too weak to hold themselves, arms trembling as if someone was shaking him.

“We have to get out of here.”, a voice said, but Tivon didn't know who said it. He could barely hear a thing over the rush in his ears, the thoughts roaring in his head, falling in and over themselves. Sgileas eyes bored into him, determined, demanding, and Tivon crumbled under that gaze. His body lost all strength, legs no longer carrying him as if they did not exist, and he fell down, down, _down_ , but the drag of gravity, astronomical as it was, it never made the ground rise to meet him. Instead Sgileas clung onto him, kept him upright and pulled him closer.

“We must bring him to Trahearne.”, Sgileas said somewhere over his head, but the words made no sense. He heard them, but it was as though Sgileas spoke another language entirely. “He will know what to do.”

Reality blurred at the edges like a piece of paper thrown into a burning hearth. Everything seemed faded and drowned, sounds so very far away it was too straining to listen. He didn't bother to. He gave up all control and slipped, his mind _slipped_ out of his grasp into darkness and oblivion. His body registered a bare few things for a while longer.

Warmth cradled around Tivon's shoulders and he felt the soft flutter of wings against his cheek, the Karka on his shoulder curling around his shoulder like a pauldron as if afraid to be shrugged off and abandoned.

There was an arm bracing his back, the other under his knees, hands almost gentle as they carried him. The movement was rhythmic, almost soothing, and he would have noticed if Tivon had cared to snap back to reality. But he was in too deep, lost in the depth of his soul that lay in shattered pieces, islands and hills disconnected and floating in the width of oblivion, and there, amidst the darkness he could see that sparkling bond he'd cherished, he saw a large tree with wonderfully tangled roots that grew lower and lower, reaching further and further down -

And then, a cut. Clean, so very clean only the sharpest of blades could have made it, the roots stopped. Below was only hollow darkness, a fall threatening to pull Tivon under. He reached for it, for the darkness and the possibility and the hope of something being _there_ and reaching out to him, but there was nothing there.

Only air, and cold.

If such a thing even existed in his mind.

  


Trahearne looked up in surprise from the map when he heard Sgileas cry his name. It startled him, worried him, because that kind of desperation was foreign. Sgileas was controlled, in almost everything, and so Trahearne turned and made his way toward the approaching group, fearing injury, defeat, failure.

When he saw Sgileas his chest clenched for a moment and he saw him carrying something...someone. A tangle of a hurdled and languid sylvari in his arms.

“What happened?”, Trahearne asked, and followed Sgileas as he brushed past toward a tent.

“Scarlet is dead.”, Sgileas reported curtly. “It's...complicated. Tivon might fall into Nightmare.”

Jory, Kasmeer, Braham and Rox waited outside, and from the distance Scruffy thumped closer, while Trahearne held the flap open for Sgileas to enter. He laid Tivon down on the make-shift bed. Tivon's limps flopped down, head falling back into the cushion without any resistance, the body unconscious. There was a fever rattling through him, bark growing hotter and hotter to the touch. Trahearne knelt beside the bed, studying the sylvari's features, cold fingers gliding over his forehead, his cheeks.

His fingers trailed over his chin, searching for any sign of curse or magic, down his neck and then toward clavicle and toward the necklace, and as soon as the fingers crossed over the accessory Trahearne retracted his hand as if burned, breath hitching in surprise.

Sgileas was beside him in and instant. “Are you-”

“Fine.”, Trahearne said soothingly, not taking his eyes off of Tivon. Where his finger had almost traced over the necklace a thorn had protruded from beneath, sinking into his finger. It stung, barely mention worthy, but whatever reaction Trahearne had elicited, it now fell and cascaded over Tivon like a chain reaction.

The armor _wilted_ away. The leafs dried and crumbled onto Tivon's chest, the stems grew smaller and thinner, leaving only the bark beneath. It fell from Tivon's body like a shed skin and Trahearne was sure of only one thing: That he'd seen something like this before, and that any mender they could find here would have no wisdom or help to offer him. “We need to bring him to the Pale Tree.”, Trahearne said. “The Pale Mother is the only one who can help him now.”

“What is happening to him?”, Sgileas asked.

“He's...”, there was a small pause. “Whatever he's fighting, he's faltering.” Trahearne glanced at Sgileas. “We must bring him to the Pale Tree. Her presence may palliate his agony and encourage his recovery.”

Sgileas lifted Tivon from the bed and Vail cursed at him with a crow, wings flapping wildly. He was not sure what the raven was trying to tell him, but he imagined a number of things. None that he could discern right now. None that he cared to hear right now.

There was no time to lose. If the Pale Mother could help him, then they would bring him there. Sgileas ignored Tivon's friends, ignored their glances and questions and made for the nearest asura gate.

Jory held Kasmeer close, arms slung over the small over her back, hand resting gently on her hip, tugging her close. The mesmer was watching with wide, terrified eyes as they took Tivon away, and Braham looked after them with a confused frown. “Where are they going?”, he asked, and Kasmeer was the one to answer.

“I don't know.”, she murmured. “But...he didn't look good.”

“He's lost much.”, Jory said, sympathy bleeding into her voice. “He'll recover.”

Rox had been quiet for some time before she said, “I've been there before.”, she said and stared after the three sylvari, lost in a box of her own painful memories. “It's a ride through hell.”

Braham put a hand on her shoulder and she glanced at him thankfully. It was a pain long passed, but sometimes even the dull sting of it could hurt. “He'll make it.”, Braham said to reassure them, all of them, and himself. “He's tough. He'll make it.”

Silence settled over them, the victory over Scarlet feeling more bitter than anything else...and in the far, far distance, in the yet undiscovered lands of Maguuma, a dragon's roar made the land tremble.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to murder me? I need to know if I need to buy some spikes for the barricade, ahaha...ha....  
> I am a terrible person, I know. BUT BEFORE YOU KILL ME:  
> I planned this from the very beginning. All of this and the course of how this would go was set the second I thought of Tivon and Derwen. Does that make that better?...no?  
> Well....  
> WAIT! YOU NEED ME TO WRITE MORE CHAPTERS! Don't kill me. Please?  
> Okay, so here's something for those of you that are gathering their pitchforks: This story has a happy ending. Yes. For Tivon. A happy ending for Tivon.  
> Good now?  
> I hope so. *looks up from behind barricade*  
> So...uh....did you like it?  
> *ducks away*


	16. The Dead End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my dear Lamshire. I'll work extra hard now for chapters. It's the only way I know how to repay you for your kindness and efforts.

_Party Invitation_

_Dear Tivon,_

_We all have not heard from you since we took down Scarlet. All of us desperately miss you. If you are well please join us at the Dead End bar in Divinity's Reach for a celebration of our victory over Scarlet. We'd really love it if you could attend. Rox and Braham have already sent an RSVP in the form of a bottle of charr whiskey and a keg of norn beer. You don't have to bring anything but your smile. Though you'll probably want to wear a bit more than that._

_\- Kasmeer_

“It's fine, sweetheart.”, Jory soothed Kasmeer as she stared into her cup. “If he's well, he'll come.”

“We haven't heard from him in weeks.”, Kasmeer murmured. “I wonder if the Commander would even bother to tell us if Tivon died.”

“Don't say that.”, Jory hushed. “Tiv will make it.”

Kasmeer sighed a weary sigh. Ever since they had been helpless and could do nothing but watch Tivon walk away, it had not been the same. The atmosphere in the group was depressed and quiet, as if the heavy weight of the loss settled over all of them evenly.

This party had been Kasmeer's idea, in order to finally celebrate a victory (A victory was victory after all) and to finally bring the band back together. Without Tivon to glue them together they had somehow split apart somewhat, and the fate of the ranger was shrouded in mystery still.

She had sent that letter a few days ago – and received no answer. All her letters had been sent, but not once had one come back. It had been weeks now. Weeks that made the uncertainty almost unbearable.

Braham was here with Rox, and the four of them were all drinking in a sort of uncomfortable silence, waiting for Taimi and...something.

When the door opened that something came in, but it was not what they had expected. Kasmeer was half on her feet, her stool scraping over the wooden floor, but her face fell when she saw the figure enter.

“Commander.”, she said less in a greeting than in recognition.

Sgileas closed the door and marched over to them, sitting down at the head of the table. He gave them a curt nod as a way of greeting, and Kasmeer was bursting to know...to ask. For a moment she held it back, but then it broke out from her. “Where is Tivon?”, she asked, and could see from the reactions around her that the others had thought the very same.

Sgileas straightened in his chair. “Unconscious, still.”, the Necromancer said. “He is at the Grove with the Pale Mother. Her presence is all that keeps him alive at this moment.”

“Shit.”, Braham cursed.

“Will he ever recover?”, Kasmeer dared to ask, even though the answer terrified her more than anything.

“I can not say. I came to extend his thanks for your care – I am sure even though he is unconscious, he'd want that.” Even when he said that, words that carried consideration and sympathy, his voice was so very cold that Kasmeer had to tear her eyes away and push back the water swelling in her eyes. The hand drawing soothing circles on the small of her back was a comfort. A small one, at least.

“You are welcome to join us, Commander.”, Jory offered. They all expected Sgileas to rise from his chair and decline, but the Necromancer nodded.

“Thank you.”, he said, and ordered a cup of water, much to all their surprise.

“Thank _you_ for coming here and telling us.”, Jory said. “I think I am safe to say we are all worried about him.”

Sgileas didn't answer. Trahearne had been the one to insist that Tivon's friends needed to know about his fate – uncertain as it may yet be. The fate of the ranger did not leave them untouched, but the both of them had very little time to spend at the unconscious sylvari's side. After the dragon's roar to the far east, they'd all but scrambled the Pact forces together to begin planing an assault.

Tivon was alive, if barely. He rested in a bough near the Pale Tree, drinking in the warmth and soothing of their Mother's presence, but hope for him dwindled with each passing day. There was no way of knowing what would happen, but Sgileas was sure that once Tivon re-awakened, he'd either be an enemy, or someone else.

He didn't pretend to even understand what kind of conflict that was. He remembered his own fight, within himself, after Claw Island. He remembered Trahearne's presence, soothing and grounding, and wondered if Derwen was there, perhaps then Tivon would have a chance of coming _back_.

As it was right now, there was no such thing as return for him. If he awakened, he'd be someone different. The old Tivon would be gone. The juvenile spark lost to agony. Innocence torn from his soul.

Sgileas sometimes wondered if perhaps he should have told Tivon of his suspicion. He'd noticed something off about him the instant he had met him, but it had been smothered over by Tivon's young age and complete innocence. He had been such a fool to trust that image, and Tivon had been even more a fool to trust a stranger.

He wanted to be angry with Tivon for being such a fool. For falling for someone like a Nightmare Courtier, and yet he remembered Tivon's broken voice, the wide, glazed eyes, jaw trembling. _“I didn't know_.” However hard Sgileas tried to be angry at him, he couldn't.

There had been the time at the Dead End when Tivon had suddenly darted away, fingers curled around that necklace of his. Every time Derry had stood close to Sgileas', he'd felt that magic permeating the air, the mesmeric illusion weaving the form together.

The only chance he had had to tell Tivon was when Tivon had been at the Vigil Keep, searching for Derry. That had been the only time Sgileas could have told him, and Tivon would not have believed. If anything he would have probably run off to confirm it – or to walk into another lie.

What a messed up world this was.

“Ow.”, Braham made when he shifted.

“Will you relax, Braham?”, Rox chided and pushed Braham down when the norn attempted to stand. “Sit down. If you keep standing on that leg...”

“Better ease up on that leg, B, or it won't heal right.”, Jory agreed.

“It doesn't hurt anymore.”, Braham pouted.

“Is that why you make that bear noise every time you sit down?”, Kasmeer asked.

“That's just the Spirit moving in me.”, Braham grumbled, and that elicited a sober chuckle all around the table.

“Nice one, Braham!”, Rox grinned.

When Taimi entered Braham turned. “Hey, who let the rabbit out of its cage?”

“That's not funny.”, Taimi rolled her eyes.

“Join us, Taimi. We're celebrating our victory over Scarlet. Would you like some juice?”, Kasmeer asked.

“I suppose we should celebrate while we still can.”, Taimi shrugged and joined them at the table.

“What's that supposed to mean?”; Rox asked with a frown, and Sgileas knew exactly where this was going.

“Nothing.”, Taimi said quickly.

“C'mon, kid. What are you talking about?”, Braham elicited.

Taimi raised her eyes from her cup of juice and looked at Sgileas. Sometimes he wondered why he had not been born an asura. They always seemed to get things quite more clearly and soberly than charr or humans. “You know, don't you? Scarlet wasn't just fooling around.”, she asked him.

“You know something?”, Kasmeer asked him, almost disbelievingly. “Tell us.”

“Scarlet awakened an Elder Dragon when she stirred the ley-lines.”, Sgileas replied curtly.

“Much as I loathe to even entertain the idea, I do believe you're right.”, Jory said, and Sgileas held back the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he was right.

“And here we thought Scarlet was the worst of our problems.”, Kasmeer murmured in dismay.

“I'm not afraid of no dragon.”, Braham shrugged.

”Braham.”, Rox sighed. “I'll have to take you to the Brand sometime. No single warrior can stand alone against a dragon.”

“The Pact will handle it.”, Sgileas said confidently. “We have taken down Zhaitan before this – it is what we came together to achieve.”

“We'll help.”, Braham was quick to put in. “We're a team.”

 _And Tivon is part of it_ , Sgileas thought, but did not say it. Even he knew that it was a soft sport here for everyone, and he was not about to provoke it. So he gulped down the last of his water instead.

Thankfully, the heavy, melancholic atmosphere did not have time to settle. The door opened once again and a female human entered in Seraph armor, and Jory stood almost immediately.

“Little Miss Marjie.”, the woman said as she sauntered closer, a smile on her lips. “Have you any idea how difficult you've been making my life? Mother never shuts up about you.”

“I told you to never call me that.”, Jory said and rolled her eyes.

“You told me lots of things, sis.”, the woman laughed.

“Sis?”, Kasmeer said uncertainly. “Jory? Is this your sister?”

 _Ah, quick as always_ , Sgileas thought, and quickly made to refill his cup lest he said anything. Kasmeer was one of those people that stated the very obvious, repeating only ever what her predecessor said or bringing in useless emotion and sympathy where it was not needed. She was soft, warm, and sweet, or as Sgileas would put it, dull, annoying and hindering.

“Yes. Come on in, Belinda. Say hello to my friends.”, Jory made a wide gesture with her arm, and Sgileas would have been glad to be excluded, but he did sit on the very same table and had no chance to walk away.

“It would be my pleasure.”, the woman smiled and came toward the table. “Hi, Marjory's friends. You're the band that took out Scarlet. I'm honored to meet you all. Congratulations on killing Scarlet. That sylvari was trouble with a capital T.” She turned her soft, brown eyes toward Jory, and Sgileas saw the resemblance more clearly now. “So, how are you? You're looking a little skinny.”, Belinda asked Jory, and Jory laughed.

“Oh gods, don't tell Momma that. Besides, look at you. Getting fat in that cushy new Seraph post of yours?”

“Oh, I don't think she's fat at all.”, Kasmeer quickly put in.

“Why, thank you. My sister's always been jealous of my voluptuous figure. She used to call me Big Beli.”

“Only because you called me Little Miss Marjie, like I was some snooty noble or something.”

“You were snooty.”, Belinda continued to tease. “Marjory used to order me and all the other kids around, even though she was the youngest.”

“What's this about Momma fretting?”, Jory changed the subject.

“Oh, you know how she gets.”, Belinda sighed dramatically. “And when she heard you'd been in the fight against Scarlet, well…”

“She sent you to check on me.”, Jory surmized.

“I'm to report back this evening.”, Belinda grinned. “I can't stay long, my dear. I'm just here to count your limbs and listen to your heart. So, how is your heart?”

“Strong as ever. What do you think of Kasmeer?”

 _Ugh_ , Sgileas thought. He should have brought a book. Or a map. Anything distracting at all.

“She's beautiful. And charming. But, isn't she from a noble family?”, Belinda asked and gave Kasmeer a curious glance.

“She used to be. Her family lost its titles under…tragic circumstances. She's one of us now. She works for me.”

“I see. Well, in that case, I wish you and her every happiness. I can see that you care deeply for her.”

“Yes, I do.”, Jory conceded.

“Congratulations! I'm happy for you.”, Belinda smiled and her eyes wandered and halted on him, of all people. “I heard you dealt the killing blow to Scarlet. You have my respect and gratitude.”

Sgileas didn't deign to answer. He lowered his head in a respectful gesture and nod, and her smile widened just the slightest.

It was becoming a terrible rumor that Sgileas was dealing the killing blows to fearful enemies. Zhaitan, Scarlet...next thing came the Elder Dragon that had awakened. He really ought to look out for his reputation.

“Goodbye, everyone. It was nice to meet you all.”, Belinda waved.

“Until we meet again.”, Rox said and waved back, and then Belinda was gone through the door.

“Did you get in trouble for roaming the camp?”, Braham asked after Belinda was gone and Jory had taken her seat once more.

“No.”, Taimi quickly said, but under Braham's gaze she faltered. “Yes. Zojja gave me extra calculations as a punishment, and I never got to see Scarlet.”

“Sounds like Zojja cares about you.”

“No, she doesn't. She cares about her record. If I do well, it reflects positively on her as my college mentor.”, Taimi explained.

“So you don't like Zojja's college?”, Braham asked.

“I was not designed to be in Synergetics. I was designed for Statics.”

“I don't know what that means.”, Braham shrugged.

“It means I'd rather make stuff than talk about making stuff.”, Taimi explained as simple as she could.

“Oh. Yeah. Me too.”, Braham grinned.

“Must be nice to have a sister.”, Taimi mumbled. “Hey, Braham.”

“Uh-huh.”, he made.

“You wanna hear about the new aetherphaser I invented for my golem? I modeled it after Scarlet's tech.”

“Uh-huh.”, Braham made once more.

“It works just fine, but I have to keep adjusting the gorometer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I had to shave down the minious array wheel in order to get it to fit on Scruffy, but I got it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Next, I'm gonna make him a panmetric listening device so he can warn me in advance if someone's sneaking up on me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey, Braham.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I like you because you're big and dumb.”, Taimi grinned up at him.

“Uh-huh.”, Braham made, then he blinked and looked at her and laughed. “Shut up!” Taimi giggled in response.

This, Sgileas found, was as good a time as any to make his exit. “I will take my leave.”, he announced and stood. The whole table looked at him, and he could see the questions in their eyes. Kasmeer was the first to voice them. “Will we hear from you?” _Will you tell us if Tivon gets better?_

“I will tell you when anything changes.”, Sgileas offered, because that was all he could do.

“Thank you.”, Kasmeer nodded and Sgileas made his way toward the door. The silence felt heavy as he left and he pulled in a heavy drag of fresh night air and closed his eyes after he had closed the door behind him.

He should check on him before he headed back to Fort Trinity to discuss the plans and events with Trahearne once more. The walk to asura gate and the Grove, up toward the seed and into the Omphalos chamber was almost in a daze, and Sgileas knelt and lowered his head in front of the Mother Tree.

“My son.”, she greeted, voice full and warm, but ever since Tivon rested close by, she sounded more strained. As if he was sapping her strength, and part of Sgileas despised him for that, but knew that the Pale Mother would never have it any other way.

“Mother.”, Sgileas greeted. “I have come to check on Tivon.”

She closed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows, the golden pollen gathering beneath her in silence as the seconds stretched. “Yes.”, she murmured. “He's...stirring.”

That made Sgileas look up. “He...is?”, he asked in surprise.

She nodded and opened her eyes, and he could see the wear in them, the exhaustion. How much of herself had she poured into him? She would have done that for any of her children, Sgileas knew. She loved all of them. That was hers to give. Her love for all of them.

 _Perhaps it was that love that nourished Tivon's broken soul_ , Sgileas mused and slowly stood when the Pale Mother gestured him to.

“He will need guidance.”, she whispered and sighed. Sgileas feared that she might sway and his body was tense, ready to lunge forward to catch her, but she stood her ground. The two wardens beside her gave her a worried glance as well, but she continued, “Will you help him, my son?”

“Of course.”, Sgileas answered instantly and the Pale Tree nodded gratefully and lifted her hand. From atop where the large hallow of the tree connected trailed a small bough down toward the ground, and inside Sgileas could see the dark shadow of a sylvari painted against the shell. The inside glowed orange and golden, and the vine that had lowered it cut away and withdrew.

A moment passed and the bough stirred, the sides fell open and revealed the sylvari within. At first Sgileas was confused, but then his mind told him he'd known. He'd known that Tivon would not be the same.

He just hadn't...anticipated this.

Tivon's skin had been the color of bright birch, the foliage atop his head leafs of green and yellow like the streaks of the morning sun.

Now, Tivon's bark was the color of grey, as if someone had covered him in ash. The leafs atop his head had fallen away, leaving only bare, gnarled branches that connected at the back of the head like some humans wore their hair and his eyes...

They were green still, but it was a dull green, like the stains of weather against a stone arch.

Tivon blinked his eyes opened slowly and sat up, eyes staring in between his feet, staring at his hands, and when he looked up it was as though a completely other sylvari was staring at Sgileas. The eyes were distant, faded, as if Tivon wasn't really there. He looked... _aged_.

“Tivon.”, Sgileas said and crouched down beside him, noticed how the eyes followed him. “You are in the Grove.”

Tivon turned his head and the second his eyes fell on the mother tree he averted them, too ashamed to meet her gaze. He pulled his knees closer and made to stand, and Sgileas helped him up. The first thing Sgileas noticed once the ranger stood was that he did so securely. He didn't sway.

The next thing was that he had grown. Tivon had reached to his shoulder, and now he was almost the same height as he. He wondered briefly what that meant – if Tivon had grown over and beyond what had trapped him in unconsciousness, or if it meant something else entirely.

Tivon's features were changed as well. His cheeks had been full and rosy they now they had fallen in somewhat, leaving the contours of his face to protrude more clearly. He looked more stern and keen, and his eyes reflected the very same, but it was not an unkind cold. It was calculating. Wondering. Thoughtful. There was melancholy and the distant shadow of hurt ghosting behind his eyes, haunting him.

There was a moments pause, and then Tivon took a deep breath and untangled his hands from Sgileas' grasp and walked over toward the Pale Tree and the Warden's stiffened, but Tivon slowly knelt down in front of her and bowed his head, and Sgileas watched the water flow into their Mother's eyes.

He'd never seen her cry before.

“Mother.”, Tivon croaked out. “I...I am not strong enough for this. I can't let go of this. I...I love him.”

“Son.”, the Pale Tree whispered. “Love is pure. There is nothing you need to be ashamed of.”

Tivon nodded slowly and Sgileas saw him clench his fists. “If I can't let go of this, I'll poison the Dream. I'll poison _you_.”, he took a deep, rattling breath that hitched. “And I can't allow that.”

The Pale Mother looked like she might speak, but Tivon raised his head and Sgileas saw the tears in his eyes, and even though Sgileas had been tense and he had thought that Tivon might try and attack the Pale Tree, he noticed now that this was not the case.

It was something else entirely.

This...

It was goodbye.

“I thank you, Mother.”, Tivon sobbed. “You have breathed life into me and I will not squander your gift, so let me repay you the only way I can.”

There was a moments pause and even Sgileas held his breath. Would Tivon ask to be executed? Was that what he was aiming at?

“Let me protect _you_. I ask that you let me go so that I can become Soundless.”

Tivon's aim was to disconnect himself from the Dream, from all other sylvari, from their _Mother_ in order to protect them from his failure. In order to shield them away from his pain and the Nightmare that oozed into the Dream through it. The Soundless would teach him to control his emotions, to become a master of his mind, and with that he'd transcend any hopes they all had had for him.

At the cost of all that he had been.

“My Son.”, the Pale Tree breathed, and then she bowed her head and stepped forward, reached out with both of her beautiful pale hands and gestured for Tivon to take them. Tivon touched her hands in awe and reverie, so careful as if he was touching a thin sheet of ice that would break at the slightest touch. He rose to his feet and she smiled up at him warmly. “I am so proud of you. Know that I will always be with you.”

Tivon nodded. “Thank you.”, he brought out and lowered his gaze and slowly retracted his hand. With a soft and graceful turn he walked past Sgileas toward the seed and the Necromancer couldn't do anything else but look after Tivon over his shoulder.

Before Tivon entered the seed he turned around and lifted his gaze hesitantly to Sgileas. “Thank you.”, Tivon murmured. “For all that you have done.”

Sgileas gave a curt nod. “Be strong and kind.”, he said, the very words Forgal had once told him, words he had held deep within his chest and tried to live up to, but he found they served another better now.

Tivon nodded, then, hesitantly, he turned and was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of LS1. This has been one hell of a ride, reading through Wiki and forums and watching Videos for extra dialogue on Youtube. So much stuff still swirling in my head...and the journey isn't over. You didn't believe I'd leave you hanging like this, right? No way. But here's some food for thought:  
> (Spoiler alert for those who haven't played LS2!)  
> Scarlet and Aerin are Soundless. Look what Mordremoth did to them. Did that make you anxious? Good, good. Ahem. :D  
> See you next chapter!


	17. Greatest Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by "Avatar", and I don't mean the movies, I mean "The last Airbender" and "Legend of Korra" :D.  
> Thanks to the lovely Lamshire for handling my spelling mistakes. I really don't know what I would do without you my dear. <3 I finally get to give the Karka the name you selected, and I know it's only a meager repayment for what you have done. But I'll keep going and trying. Don't you worry.  
> Now, on to the story before I start blushing like a five-year old.

The first days were torture.

“It is like a fouling limp.”, a sylvari said, and the voice was level and cold, as if all emotion was drained The sylvari's eyes were empty as well when they glanced at Tivon. “You may keep it, and it will slow you down, slowly poison your body to the root until you can not function. Or you may cut it out to survive with hope of regrowth.”

He was speaking of Derwen.

Tivon felt a bare, stark anger swelling in his breast, and it fuelled his feelings all the more; his protectiveness over Derwen, his love for him, the fact that no matter of much Derwen tore him apart, he'd let him do it again until there was nothing of him left.

Such was his willingness to sacrifice, and such was the strength of his love.

Little did he know that with this comment the sylvari had intended nothing more than to strengthen Tivon's resolve; that thought only occurred to Tivon weeks later. Right then he stood up abruptly, looking down at the sylvari with shaking, clenched fists and eyes that glinted furiously in the firelight.

“I will not listen to you speak of him.”, Tivon spat. “Your words are poison alone.”

The sylvari didn't seem to care – and neither did he mind. “Truth is in the eye of the beholder.”, was all the sylvari said, and Tivon's anger only dissipated over the course of the long, stretched silence, only when he noticed that he was being cast wary glances over the fire.

They were watching him. Waiting to see his progress.

Or his failure.

He sat back down, defeated by their gazes alone, and sunk into silence.

  
  


His first meditation nearly broke his resolve.

When he had sat down into the grass, gestured to do so by his new mentor who was to teach him, and closed his eyes, he'd felt...nervous. Anxious, even. He'd listened to the sound of the sylvari's voice, offering advice and instruction, and slowly Tivon had slipped. Not his body, no, but his mind.

It had slipped and dripped far down and below, fell into a pond of dark water that was icy to the touch. It grasped at him eagerly as he tried to regain his senses, it tore him beneath the surface, long, ice-coated vines tangling around his arms, his legs, his body and dragging him below, his bark chilling down to his very insides -

and he'd broken away, eye shooting open and body staggering to his feet in such a hurry he tumbled and fell over his own legs into the glade with a splash, breathing harshly and violently, body shaking far beyond his control.

The mentor stared at him from the glade and rose to his feet and left, and Tivon stared after the mentor, fighting the sheer and utter terror of that cold and wondered if that was what the Soundless gave themselves to. If it was that unrelenting and merciless cold that would consume him instead.

Was that his choice? Between becoming cold and dead on the inside and becoming consumed by nightmare?

He was on all his fours, fighting the nausea welling up, fighting the despair with all his will that he could muster because he knew if he faltered, he'd let the nightmare in. He knew that if he could not do this, they would have to kill him instead.

_Love is pure_ , the Pale Tree had said, and Tivon blinked against the reflection of himself in the soft shift of the glades waters. 

_I do not recognize myself_ , he thought dizzily and kept staring at those keen lines of his face, the sharp point of his chin, the branches on his head bare and empty, curling at the back of his neck into a tight knot and his eyes looked darker, smeared, green washed and wilted and waning. 

What point was there to hold on to who he had been, if he no longer was that person? He was no longer the same. He'd decided that when he'd been unconscious. He'd decided that whatever it took, he'd protect the dream, no matter the pain, the agony, the  _sorrow_ that would wreck and rattle his soul. He'd promised himself he'd either fight, determined, or die before seeing himself fail.

When Tivon saw the determination reflected back at him he got up onto his feet. Cold and death may await him, but he would not back down. He sat back down into the soft grass and closed his eyes, and the mentor watched from a distance and then finally turned away completely, recognizing the state of utter determination.

And when Tivon sunk into that place again, when the cold waters stretched and reached for him, he reached back.

  
  


It wasn't death. Not even close. It was like being scrubbed and washed clean with cold water from the inside out, and once that was done and over, everything coated and froze over with a sheet of ice. Thin at first, easy to break at the slightest tangible touch a thought or an emotion could bring, and hardened with each time Tivon delved into the meditation until, someday, weeks later, Tivon opened his eyes and everything inside him was hardened like a diamond, pressured to the point where it could not break free.

No matter how many times he thought of the pain, the memories, all that haunted him, it left him feeling solemn and tranquil, but there, shimmering from within that diamond cage Tivon had created for his emotions and his connection to the Pale Tree, was a light that sparkled through all the layers and shone from the inside.

No matter how much Tivon tried, that light remained. It would surface from within, breaking through the layers and break into a spectrum, filling him with warmth and comfort and the feeling of home.

Of love.

And that, Tivon found as he sat cross legged, meditating once more, staring down into the figurative cage, light illuminating him from far below, glittering over his features, was the greatest blessing of them all.

When he came back to himself and blinked his eyes open he felt more like himself – the new _himself_ that he had found after re-awakening, as strange as that sounded – than he had before. From the water of the glade came the Karka, true and obedient and faithful, and Tivon waited until it snuggled closer toward his legs before he pulled hand over the coarse and jagged surface of its shell.

So long he had struggled. Not just with himself, no. He had struggled for a name. A name for a companion that was true and real, and now that he'd come back, now that he saw clearly again, now that his thoughts were no longer tainted by an exterior influence and he had only the voice of his head and his instincts to listen to, the name was as clear as the stars in the night sky.

“Kota.”, he greeted and the Karka chirped happily. It had grown, just as he had. Perhaps that was a sign, but Tivon wasn't sure. Not that it mattered. When he stood Kota reached up to his knees now, too large to be carried, and far too eager to walk the world on its own four legs.

Vail had come back to him as well. The Raven had stared at him for a long moment, contemplating, thinking, and then he'd jumped onto Tivon's shoulder and pecked him gently against the side of his head. A gesture of annoyance and lecture, the _I have told you, I tried to warn you_ , weaved into the action and the bond, and Tivon just shrugged.

“I believe nothing would have stopped me, even knowing the truth.”

Vail crowed into his ear, _Idiot, idiot_ , and flew off, but the words carried less weight, less heat, and even less cold. They were teasing and light, even though they had not even been truly _spoken_ , and Tivon watched the white Raven glide into the sky.

“I know.”, Tivon said, loudly, but not yelling, and then turned to gaze upon the ground.

He felt the shift in the earth, the slight scent of murk lingering in the air, and even the sky seemed heavy and laden when grey, heavy clouds hung over his head.

Ever since the dragon had roared, Tivon could _feel_ it. The earth beneath his feet shuddering at the prospect of the danger and destruction to come, he could feel the cry for help in the dust and the dirt, could taste it in the sweep of the wind.

“Are you certain?”, his mentor asked.

“I can not linger.”, Tivon confirmed and the mentor gave a faint nod.

“Where life goes, so too should you.”

Empathy was gone. Their connection to the Pale Tree disrupted. That did not mean the morals and teachings rang any less in their ears, that the indoctrination was lost. Tivon valued the wisdom of the tablet even now, and among the Soundless most sought to escape the pressure of the Dream itself, the empathetic connection to all sylvari, and not the teachings of the Tablet itself.

He'd found wisdom and comfort in those very teachings, and he had especially meditated on ' _The only lasting peace is the peace within your soul'_.

If Tivon were to be asked, he'd say he was at peace right now, this very moment, and every moment just before and after the present. It was a reminder that despite the changes he had undergone, his soul, and henceforth, himself, remained the same. Paradox as that was, it made sense to him now and brought with it a solemnity and tranquillity.

He bowed his head and left. Gestures of farewell and goodbye were of little consequence. In his life before he might have bonded with his mentor, befriended him even, but now there was no such requirement. They were two sylvari, the one teaching, the other learning, and now parting.

Such was the simplicity of being a Soundless – and a burden to everyone else. Of that Tivon was well aware. That his apathy would come across as nonchalance and disregard, that he would seem disinterested and cold. Even that would have laced him with guilt at some point, but now it left him feeling indifferent, and as such, perhaps the interpretation of another would not be false at all.

Tivon wandered for weeks. Through swamps and highlands, over large planes of grass and over snowy hills and mountains, avoiding everyone and all, until his steps stirred toward the Brisban Wildlands.

He recognized it by the earth, red and worn and parched, fractures rippling over the dry dirt in cracks that opened like jagged jaws. The path was trampled and well travelled by humanoid and animal alike, and down below the slope barely a few hundred meters away glistened the surface of a small lake, attracting the thirsty and the weary, and those that came to exploit such a basic desire.

Tivon sat beneath the shadow of a tree, leaning against the strong wooden bark and gazing down below. An animal came from the undergrowth, hopping and toppling toward the water in eager thrusts, licking away its thirst, and Tivon knew its end was coming.

The water rippled, there was a loud splash, a keen, sharp cry of an animal and then it was gone, and Tivon remained where he was, watching as the surface slowly eased and flattened, waves ceasing.

“Why?”, a thick, creaky, worn voice behind him asked and he turned his head slowly, carefully, considering if he was in any danger.

From beneath the shadows of the tree came what Tivon knew to be a druid. Spirits of the land, spirits of old that nurtured the nature and its growth. He stood and offered a small gesture of respect with an inclination of his head before he craned his neck to gaze upon the phantom form, shimmering a faint green with broad and wide shoulders, stalking on all fours, and yet with how massive it was, it made no sound on the ground, did not make the earth tremble.

“The blossom is brother to the weed.”, Tivon answered and the Druid watched him contemplatively for a few seconds before it considered him no threat.

“Most souls intervene for the sake of their own conscience.”

“Seeds, growth, and decay.”, Tivon said and glanced out toward the water. “Such is the way of nature.”

“For us all.”, the Druid conceded and Tivon turned back, nodding.

“For us all.”

There was another pause that felt not uncomfortable at all. Tivon wondered if he was to be punished to have sat here, watching idly as a life had been taken which he could have saved, but the Druid seemed to think of something else entirely.

“You are a sprout from a tree.”, the druid murmured, and even though it was translucent, even as it shifted Tivon could hear the creaking of branches, that old ache of ancient wood.

“I am sylvari.”, Tivon declared. “We awaken from the bough beneath the Pale Tree in the Grove.”

“And yet,” the Druid noticed, “the connection is broken. Your kin are lost to you.”

“A dandelion seed remains a dandelion, no matter where the wind carries it.”

“Agreed.”, the druid conceded once again titling it's large head, revealing the large array of branches atop its head that raked high above, beautiful petals glittering in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy. “Tell me of your magic.”

That startled Tivon and he frowned. “I possess none.”

The chuckle was low and raw. “Carrying the sun within makes one blind to its wonders.”

Did the Druid see into his soul, into that diamond shaped prison where his emotions lay, where love shone through? Before Tivon could utter his question the Druid moved closer, and Tivon smelled fir and spruce. With a slight bow the druid lowered its head and shook it wildly, just once, until a branch broke and snapped free, falling toward the ground with a _thump_ that Tivon did not expect.

It looked more like a small, tight and stiff tree than a branch, small roots dangling at the butt of the staff, the head spanned into branches that reached out toward the sides, angling and tangling just ever so slightly, and one might have found it unremarkable in its simplicity, but Tivon knew better.

He knew how to look at the wood, to see the many years of growth in the pattern, to see the many lines and few cracks where it had been broken and regrown, the small branches angling outwards to expand and seek to extend, only now to be denied that chance forever.

This was a Druid's staff. Broken and given from a spirit Druid itself. Confusion made Tivon's eyebrows furrow and he glanced up, not daring to touch such a precious gift, even though there was no doubt that it was intended for him.

“Why?”, it was his turn to ask, and the Druid lifted its head after having shaken it, not only sounding but also looking weary, as if shedding the Druid's staff had cost a great deal of energy and effort.

“The earth shudders and screams, and we are old and weary.”, the Druid murmured. “I see your soul, young sylvari. I see your destination. This is our contribution to this battle.”

A battle. A dragon. Tivon crouched slowly and carefully and let his hands hover over the wood and then grasped it, and once he did it became so very clear to him that what he had told himself all that time – that he was stupid, and idiot, a fool and a moron – it suddenly seemed true once more.

The _sun_ was a reference not only to the light within that cage. It was referring to a part of dormant magic that Tivon had not known existed, that he had gotten in touch with, that had nestled there in his fibres, hidden away. It had awakened some long time ago, in memories that washed through is mind on occasion but were nothing but shadows that told him of a past.

At the touch of the Druid's Staff he felt the energy resonate, pulsing and coming to life like a candle ignited in the dark. It was soft and warm, and Tivon remembered.

_A cave, so very far away all of a sudden it was overwhelming and dazing, crystals filled with magic and cliffsides adorned with platforms, a bazaar buzzing down below._

What cruel irony it was, that after all this time Tivon discovered that Derwen had been right. That magic might exist in him, dormant and sleeping, waiting only for the perfect tool to be weaved and spanned into, the perfect capacitor to resonate with.

He felt...light. Warm and so very light that he thought a single breeze could carry him wherever he wished. Perhaps he was a dandelion, after all. “I thank you for this gift.”, Tivon said and bowed his head. “I have little to give in return.” With a nimble movement he lifted the twined cord from around his hip and the sheath came undone, his sword falling into his grasp.

The druid bowed its head and Tivon stowed the sword atop the druid head, weaved and knotted the vine thread around the branches and placed the sword in between. When the Druid raised its head once more, Tivon felt lighter, as if the sword had been a burden, as if it had carried a weight that had dragged him down.

“The land splits. Head east toward the unknown lands and beyond.”

Tivon nodded. “I will.”

The Druid regarded him for a moment longer, then it turned it's large body with slow movements. It was this that had Tivon realize just how old and weary these spirits must be, and that they could do so very little to help the land they were sworn to. He listened to the thump of its footsteps, but the earth did not shudder, and once the druid had disappeared into the shadows and everything had faded into silence Tivon let the butt of the staff sink down toward the ground and his gaze trained east.

“Kota, Vail.”, he issued, and both companions replied, easily and hurriedly coming to his side. “We have a destination.”

 


	18. Honored Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I like to spoil you. Sometimes.  
> I just felt that the previous chapter as well as this one leave you hanging too much - all development and no action. Plus, this one is really short.   
> So I'll post one more after this, because I have them ready, I have the time...and I owe you. *Looks timidly at Lamshire*

Going back to Lion's Arch after all that had happened felt like tearing an old wound open. The destruction was apparent still, efforts to rebuild in progress, and with the help of the Zephyrites there was promise to a faster recovery, and yet...

Five of them had made it. When they had been six. Braham, Rox, Taimi, Jory and Kasmeer. And Tivon.

_But that isn't fair, is it?,_ Kasmeer thought when she looked up at the stage in front of her where Captain Ellen Kiel stood, ready to make her speech.  _It sounds like I have given up on him and nothing could be further from the truth, but..._

“On behalf of the Captain's Council and this worthy assembly, welcome, Zephyrites! I'm sorry Lion's Arch is still a work in progress, but key services have been restored, and the Lioguard are patrolling— “

“No need to apologize, Captain.”, the Master of Peace said. “We came to offer our support and to assure you our trade agreement remains intact. To start, we're donating a shipment of much-needed supplies, which we have stage here on the docks. We're also organizing a series of attractions, with a portion of the proceeds going to the Lion's Arch relief fund.”

“That's very kind, sir. And much appreciated.”, Kiel smiled gratefully. “We should withdraw to the council chambers to discuss details. But first, let me introduce you to some of the heroes who prevented the total destruction of our city.” She pointed down toward their group of five, and despite the fact that Kasmeer should have felt honored, giddy even, she only felt sad that they were not complete. “I present to you the team of Kasmeer Meade, Marjory Delaqua, Braham Eirsson, Rox, and... Taimi, I believe?”

“That's right. Taimi and Scruffy. Pleased to met you, Mr. Important Zephyrite. I would love a chance to inspect—“

“Smile and wave, Taimi. Just smile and wave. Please.”, Braham grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. Taimi gave Braham and affronted gaze and sat back, pouting, but keeping quiet.

“Along with their leader, these brave people have been the city's staunchest and most effective volunteer defenders.”, Kiel explained blandly.

_Their leader_ , Kasmeer thought bitterly. A title, and no name. Was that supposed to ease the fact that he was not here? The fact that he was fighting,  _suffering_ , and none of them knew where and how to help? That just wasn't fair.

“They brought down Scarlet Briar once and for all. And they did so at considerable cost to themselves.”

Kasmeer remembered. Jory had been hurt, Braham's leg broken, and Sgileas had made the blow and then... everything had just tumbled into chaos from there. If only she'd told him that she felt something odd. That there was a mesmer magic surrounding him.

“I am honored to meet you all.”, the Master of Peace nodded. “In the face of such barbarity, the cause of peace requires formidable defenders. I hope you all enjoy the diversions at Labyrinthine Cliffs. I understand there are also amusements in Divinity's Reach.”

“Aye. Queen Jenna has generously reopened the Crown Pavillion and is also donating the proceeds to Lion's Arch.”

“Splendid.”, the Master of Peace seemed pleased. “We have arranged for transport between the cliffs and the human capital for whoever desires it.”

“Can we just go straight to Divinity's Reach? Scarlet pretty much ruined the Crown Pavilion for me last time.”, Braham asked.

“By all means, experience the attractions in any order you choose. Heroes at a festival definitely help draw a crowd.”

“Hear hear.”, Kiel smiled, and Kasmeer couldn't place it, but that smile looked melancholic. There had been a time Kiel and Tivon had been close, back in Southsun, and she knew Tivon's absence did not leave the Captain cold. “The council appreciates your participation and the positive impact it creates. Enjoy the festival!”

With that Kiel turned away with the Master of Peace and gave Kasmeer one last glance over her shoulder with a sad smile that said all that she could not say aloud, and then she walked toward the ship's council chambers, or at least the tent that served as such for the moment.

“Well, our mission is to enjoy ourselves and to be seen doing it. How's the leg?”, Rox asked.

“It's fine. And before you ask again, no, I don't want one of your good luck charms.”, Braham growled, clearly having declines Rox's offer more than once.

“You know one of mine won't work. It has to be personal.”, Rox lectured. “I wish you'd let me help you pick one out. Otherwise, you're going to get injured again. Once misfortune finds you, it doesn't just go away. You have to counter it.”

“Wolf's tail, is this what they mean by being mothered?”, Braham asked, exasperated. “I'm suddenly glad mine was never around.”

“Somebody's in a sour mood.”, Rox noted, but she smiled anyhow. “But I know a cure for crankiness: bashing things to benefit Lion's Arch!”

Even Braham could not find fault in that.

“So, do I get to come along this time, or are you going to sideline me in some camp again?”, Taimi asked accusingly.

“Nobody sidelined you.”, Braham argued. “With all the miasma and Aetherblades and whatnot, we were trying to get people out, not bring them in.”

“You should have known better.”, Taimi snapped. “I followed Scarlet's progress for months. Did you really think I'd miss her big finish?”

“Be glad you did.”, Braham said, and for the first time his voice was stern and serious, a bitter tone in it. “Some of us were there and still didn't get to see it through.”

Rox glanced side-ways, knowing what he meant, and the gesture was all Braham needed to be reminded that they were not complete. That Tivon was missing. By the Bear, he hated that he could do nothing. He'd storm the Grove and trample all the grass if he had to, but he knew that even if he did, he couldn't help. What would he say? _It's going to get better? You'll be fine?_

“That's because I wasn't there!”, Taimi argued. “Let that be a lesson to you: never make a move without Taimi and Scruffy.” The asuran girl didn't understand. She hadn't been there. She spoke so lightly of this, but Braham could not find it in him to blame her. He was glad one of them was left unscarred, at least.

“Yeah, I'll think about that.”, Braham shrugged. “Anyway, I'm off to the Divinity's Reach attractions. I'll see you around, kid.”

He was already moving away when he heard Taimi engage Kasmeer and Jory.“Are you going to the festival? Braham said I could go.” He chuckled to himself and saw Rox follow him from the corner of his eyes. He was glad she was here with him. He owed her a great deal, and they both helped one another to try and not think about Tivon...or the fact the he might be...

Braham shook his head. _He'll make it._

“Did he, now?”, Jory asked with raised eyebrows. “From what I've heard, you have a slight problem with the truth where Braham is concerned.”

“Jory! Be nice.”, Kasmeer lectured with a soft smile. “Of course you can go. Ms. Delaqua is naturally suspicious. Pay her no mind.”

“Oh, I won't.”, Taimi grinned. “But Braham wants to go to Divinity's Reach, and I'd rather see Zephyrite stuff... Can I go with you?”

“Where are your actual legal guardians?”, Jory asked. “Didn't Progeny Protective Services assign someone to you?”

“They know where I am, obviously, but...let's just say I released myself on my own recognizance.”, Taimi shrugged with a smug grin, and Jory sighed.

“It's fine.”, Kasmeer smiled. “You just stay close to us. We'll make sure you are safe.” There was something dreamy in Kas' expression. “I like the Zephyrites.”, she said and then turned her eyes toward Jory. “And I like seeing your face healed.”

Jory rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the concern, but please, enough with the fretting about my face.”

“It was a lot more than a cosmetic injury, and you know it.”, Kas said, voice stern. “I thought you were dead. Never scare me like that again.”

Jory mustered her for a moment and didn't know how to respond. There was no way she would promise such a thing, life was far too uncertain for such fickle certainties. So instead she leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on Kasmeer's cheek and was rewarded with a blush. “Let's go.”, Jory murmured and noted from from the corner of her eyes that Taimi was pointedly staring the other way.

  
  


 


	19. Disturbance in the Brisban Wildlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That development I was complaining about? More of that here, but the good kind. The we-are-progressing-with-the-story kind. Am I making any sense? No?  
> Well, enjoy yourselves anyway :3

_Strange Happenings Majory,_

_I'm well aware of just how busy you are. However, you've heard the theories that Scarlet disturbed one of the dragons. I fear these theories have merit._

_My eyes and ears in Brisban Wildlands are reporting mysterious incursions into previously quiet areas. Go see for yourself. I hope your curiosity will spur you to action._

_\- E_

_That mysterious E once again_ , Majory thought. Her boots were relatively new, but she could feel the soles already running through from the dry and hard earth, the sharp edges and jagged stones piercing from beneath.

It had been weeks since Scarlet's death, and she had heard a great deal of things, but none from that Commander of the Pact. Everyone was preparing, everyone was in uproar for a fight, a _war_ nobody even knew how to begin – or how to win.

“Tonight, I'll take your watch so you can get some extra sleep.”, Kasmeer said beside her. The journey here had taken them a couple of days, and she had been fussing over her ever since that time on the Breachmaker. Not that Jory could blame her – she would do something very similar. She would wrap Kasmeer in a blanket, put her in a warm cosy bed and refuse to hear her argue. She'd do anything to keep her away from danger, even though she knew better. Kasmeer would never let herself be pampered. And neither would Jory.

“Listen here, mother hen.”, Jory said in that tone of hers, serious and cold, yet light and with the hint of a smile. “You can stop fussing. I'm fine. My ribs barely hurt anymore.”

In the distance Jory could see Rox, Braham and Taimi. Since Scarlet they had stuck together, making their own plans to involve themselves in business everyone else seemed to indulge in. Surely their help could be used, somehow.

Kasmeer looked her over, assessing the truth of what she had said, but even if she saw it, she would not believe it. “You ready? Let's join the others, shall we?”

Jory nodded, glad that Kasmeer let it go, for once. When they joined the others they overheard their conversation, of only faintly, and louder as they approached.

“What are Seraph doing all the way out here?”, Rox asked.

“How about we ask? Oh, look. There's the others.”, Braham said and nodded toward the two females, his long, thick arms folded in front of his broad chest, eyes darting over toward the old fort that looked battered, fractured stone barely keeping it all together.

“How's your leg, Braham?”, Kasmeer asked with a gentle smile.

“Barely a peep from it. I got through those vines just fine.”, Braham shrugged. It was strange, but they all could almost hear another voice, as if they were still six. As if they had not lost someone on the way. As if Tivon was still with them. _You be careful,_ he would say with a teasing smile, _We can't carry you_.

“You worry about him too much. He's tough.”, Taimi said.

“We never said he wasn't.”, Rox grumbled.

“You thought it.”, Taimi said, voice low.

“What?”, Rox asked, her head turning to the small asura in confusion. She hadn't heard.

“Nothing.”, Taimi quickly said, the Eternal Alchemy smiling upon her with this chance to avoid a fight. Yet _another_ fight, she might add.

“I want to talk about that Seraph and find out what's going on around here.”, Braham said and untangled his arms and started marching toward the fort. They all fell in place behind him, and Kasmeer wore a face full of melancholy, her gaze suddenly far away.

Jory put a hand on the small of her back, gently, nudging her closer, and she knew exactly what Kasmeer was thinking. The mesmer glanced at her and smiled ruefully. “I just wish...he was here, you know?”, she murmured and Jory nodded.

“I know.”, she soothed. The words she had said before, many of consolation and encouragement, they all seemed thick and dry like ash in her mouth. They had not heard from Sgileas in two months now. Whatever happened to Tivon...it remained a mystery. A mystery that slowly edged toward a more final end.

God's be merciful, that could not be. Jory wanted to believe that no one could die of a broken heart, but she had seen the old die once their life-light was gone, once that other part of the soul was lost. But he had been so young. So full of life and energy and...

It made her mad. Her blood boiled in her veins when she thought that someone could toy with Tivon like that. That someone had managed to rip him apart. If she ever saw that Mesmer again, she would murder him. Put a weakening curse on him and watch him being torn apart by minions as she -

“I want to get a sample of those living vines. I wonder if I could create hybrids?”, Taimi wondered from atop her golem and brought Jory from her reverie, or rather, a daydream. It sometimes soothed her to think of this, but she doubted that they would ever see Derwen again.

“Easy there, mastermind.”, Kasmeer jested. “These things are dangerous.”

Taimi only gave a roll of her eyes as an answer, but the faint smile was all they needed not to feel the arrogant vibe that usually surrounded her.

“Welcome to the edge of nowhere.”, the Seraph greeted them with a grim expression.

“Excuse me, Corporal. Looks like you've got a problem on your hands.”, Kasmeer said charmingly.

“You might say so. We need to get through those vines, but they're impassible.”, the Corporal grumbled.

“How about we give you a hand?”, Jory offered.

“That'd be great. We're a small expeditionary squad.”

“What are you doing so far from the Reach?”, Jory wanted to know.

“We're tracking black market traders that came this way. We suspect they have a secret ingress past this mess. “

“Well, let's see if we can help you clear a path.”, Jory grinned. Criminals were her metier.

“Your help would be greatly appreciated, ma'am.”, the Corporal said once again with a nod and then turned his helmed head toward the side. “Delaqua! Come over here.”, he ordered, and Kasmeer raised an eyebrow before they saw Jory's sister stalk toward them, her raven black hair bound together into a ponytail at the back of her head.

“Yes, sir!”, Belinda said and then grinned when she saw Majory. “Well, I'll be damned. Hey, sis.”

“I thought maybe this was your squad.”, Jory grinned back.

“You're related?”, the Corporal asked with a surprised expression.

“Yes, sir.”, Belinda nodded. “What are you doing here, Marjie?”

“We heard a rumor there were strange goings-on in this area. We came to investigate.”

“Let's talk. We've got some information about what's happening around here.”, Belinda offered and Jory was about to accept when Braham cut them off.

"Inquest!”, he yelled in warning. “Taimi, get in your golem!”

“Stay close, Jory.”, Kas said beside Jory and the necromancer gave her an annoyed glance.

“Kas. That's my line.”, she protested, but Kas was not listening.

“What are Inquest doing here?”, Kas asked.

“They're like rats.”, Braham spat. “They show up everywhere there's death.”

“You guys go left. Kas and I will go right!”, Jory said and then dashed off, Kas right behind her.

“We need to hold them back here! Our outpost can't withstand an all-out attack.”, the Corporal called after them, and Jory gave only a faint nod that she had heard and understood. The Inquest came swarming from a slope and down the passage, two ways that should be fairly easily defensible were it not for the sheer amount of enemies they were facing.

These little asura always had their large, fat fingers where they did not belong. Wherever the Inquest were, there was bound to be something worth investigating, and to be a lot of trouble.

“They're beginning to funnel through the eastern pass. We need to divide and conquer.”, the Corporal called.”Delaqua, you take the eastern pass.”

“I'm on it!”, Jory yelled when her axe slit through an inquest throat.

“The _other_ Delaqua!”, the Corporal emphasized with exasperation.

Belinda chuckled lightly. “Yes, sir!”

Belinda, Jory and Kas held their ground against the Inquest very well, and below they could see that Brahm, Rox and Taimi did the very same. The Inquest slowly dwindled in numbers, corpses piling up until finally, they retreated.

“That was exciting. It's been a while since I've seen you in action. You've improved.”, Belinda praised when she sheathed her sword and readjusted a strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen over her cheek in the heat of combat.

“I've been getting lots of practice.”, Jory smiled.

“Looks like we've almost got those vines out of the way. You coming through with us?”, Belinda asked, and there was no mistaking the glint of hope in her eyes.

“Yeah. We want to see what's on the other side. You don't mind, do you?”, Jory teased.

“If you come with us? Great God's, no.”, Belinda chuckled. “I don't get to spend enough time with you.”

Jory smiled at that. “Let's see if you still feel that way after a few days of being around us.”

But it was not to be. The Corporal stalked toward them through the mess of tangled limps and bodies and gestured with his chin toward Belinda. “I have a mission for you. I need you to run back to Fort Salma and give them an update. Oversee getting soldiers posted here to keep these vines back. I don't want our retreat cut off, just in case.”

“Yes, Corporal. I'll grab my gear and go.”, Belinda nodded.

“I knew I could rely on you. Double-time, Seraph.”, the Corporal smiled and then turned away.

“Yes, Corporal.”, Belinda said and then gave Jory a rueful glance.

“It's okay. Some other time.”, Jory soothed.

“I'm sorry I can't go with you. Promise you'll stop by Fort Salma on your way home and let know how things went.”

“I will.”, Jory promised. “Send Momma word that you saw me, will you? So she worries a little less.”

“Okay. I'd better get going. Take care of yourself, okay? Love you, sis.” Belidna stepepd forward and gave Jory a warm, gentle hug, careful not to hurt her with her armor.

Jory squeezed her back and then let her go. “Always. You too.”

“Belinda, it was good seeing you again.”, Kas said, having been in the background, knowing when to step in, and when not to.

“Oh. Same here. Good-bye.”, Belinda smiled and waved, and she marched back to the Fort and out of sight.

“We're still going, right?” Braham asked when he, Rox and Taimi rejoined them.

“Of course.”, Jory nodded. It was a consensus among them. There was no leader. Sometimes Braham charged ahead, sometimes Jory knew where to go or what to do. But none of them wanted to take the spot that was vacant.

None of them wanted to take the role in fear that once they did, they would accept that Tivon was gone forever.

“Yeah.”, Kas agreed. “Let's go.”

The path was covered in vines, thick and lurking and tangling over and around trees and the ground, forming tight knots that were harder to cut through than any of them liked to admit. It was clear from some footprints they found that they were not alone, and Jory tried to discern anything from them, and knew only two things: That it was asuran feet, and that that meant Inquest.

They went through the tangle in near silence. The air became thick and humid with each hour that passed, and there was only the occasional murmur from behind her that passed as conversation, but Jory was fixated on the path ahead. It was not clear what they would find, but she knew that whatever Scarlet had woken, it lingered somewhere here. Maybe not close by, but they were getting closer.

“Jory!”, Kas cried and she reacted way before the cry had even finished. She jumped back, a zap and bolt of electricity exploding at her feet. Kas was beside her in an instant, and from the tangles and shadows came the Inquest, cornering them slowly. Not that that would save them, by the God's no. They could bring double this number and they would still be killed by the team.

“More of these rats.”, Braham cursed, shield raised and ready to imbue it with his guardian magic to shield them off from any missiles, and one asura stepped forward, her dark eyes sharp and glinting.

“This is Inquest territory.”, she announced haughtily. “Leave, or suffer the consequences.”

“What would those be?”, Kasmeer wondered aloud.

“Extermination.”, the asura dead-pannned, and Kasmeer gripped the staff tighter. There really was no end to the greed of these little evil creatures.

There was a moment of silence, contemplation of both parties, but it was already clear the asura would not back down, and the team had a task to fulfil. There was no going back for either, and the soft snap of Scruffy's panel when Taimi sank into her golem was almost like the signal for attack, but the team didn't move.

They didn't dare.

There was a flash of white and a sharp yelp of pain and the asura stumbled and staggered back, hand lifting toward her scratched face. Whatever it was that had attacked her, it disappeared into the darkness of the vines, floating through as if it was a wisp of light with a flap of wings.

There was another moment of silence, then a loud crow, and Kasmeer craned her neck. She stared above, where seated on a thorn, claws digging in tightly into the plants, was Vail. The white Raven, Tivon's raven, his companion, his...

He was here. He was here. _He was here_.

There was a soft shift and then, nonchalantly as if from a stroll, Tivon emerged from beneath a vine and pushed a large leaf aside, revealing himself.

At first Kasmeer didn't recognize him. Her heart beat hard in her chest when she saw him, her breast constricting almost painfully when the air pressed from her lungs. He was taller than she remembered, and perhaps it was the dim light that barely filtered through the tangle of vines and thorns, but Tivon's skin looked grey, ashen, even. His features looked aged, fallen in, sharp and keen. His chin was more pointed, the cheeks slightly hollowed out, and his hair...the leaves atop his head were gone. There were gnarling branches, dry and stark that came together at the back of his neck.

His eyes gleamed only faintly in the darkness, and his skin was covered in typical sylvari wear and armor that clung to his skin, his every movement, the leaves and stems dark, just like his skin, and his movements were determined, striding, full of grace and nimble assessment. There was a peering predatory nature to his movements, muscles and body taunt without looking stiff.

“Tivon.”, she croaked out, and the ranger looked at her. In his hand was a staff that she didn't recognize, his bow string slung over his chest, quiver and arrows peeking out from over his shoulder, and he approached them with the elegance and nimbleness of a dancer, Vail fluttering toward his shoulder and settling there.

The female asura was cursing, the blood running through her fingers and she glared through them. Tivon stood right in the middle, between them and the asura, and his green eyes mustered the leader of the opposing party as if studying a child crawling. “Kill them!”, the female asura screeched and Kasmeer tensed her fingers around her staff, she saw Braham lift his shield ready to charge forward to protect Tivon, Jory raised her axe to send a jolt of dark magic forward and Scruffy pulled his large fists back, ready to extend them to strike, and Tivon-

Tivon turned fully toward the asura and raised the staff over his head with one hand and pulled it down, just the once, the butt of the staff clacking against the earth. There was a soft roar, creaking and rustling of branches, a soft tremble that shivered through the parched earth, and then the noises exploded around them.

There was cracking from the sides and above, branches and boughs of the coppice breaking, thorns and vines succumbing under an unknown force as if from a lightning storm. It came all crushing down in a tangle of plants and fibres as if pulled toward the earth and the screams of the Inquest died away almost instantly when they were crushed beneath. Dust rose into the air, drifting away from a gentle breeze, and then Tivon gently lifted the staff from the ground.

The thorns and vines curled in on one another, curling _tighter_ as if embracing the Inquest that lay trapped beneath, and all noises suddenly faded and died, leaving an eerie silence in their wake. Tivon watched for a moment longer before he turned to face them and was nearly crushed when Kasmeer ran straight into him and embraced him with bone-crushing intensity and he let out a huff of surprise. Her body squeezed against his own, tight and warm, and he stood a little helpless and raised his hand to pat her upper back. Her face was pressed into his chest and he could feel her shaking against him.

When she didn't let go he looked at Jory. “Help me out here?”, he asked lightly and Jory gave a watery chuckle.

“Honey, come on.”

“No.”, Kasmeer protested, her voice muffled against his chest and her arms around his back tightened. “We thought you were dead.”

Tivon saw the others avert their eyes, admitting without words that either of them had thought it, if only for a brief, painful moment. “I am alive.”, Tivon assured her and let his hand rest on her back, didn't know what to do with himself in this situation. “Kas. Let me go, please.” His voice was gentle, but firm, and Kasmeer reluctantly did as he asked, her eyes glazing up at him.

Tears swam in them, making them glitter in the dim light, and Tivon knew that at some point in time, empathy and sympathy would have been inside him to answer the crushing and overwhelming wave of her emotions, but right now he could only think of the pressing matter at hand. He wasn't unkind when he put his hand on her arms and pushed her away just slightly, but to her, it was as though he had shoved her, as if he had slapped her.

Why was he acting like this? What was wrong with him? Had he no idea how worried they had been? Had he not missed them as they had missed him? They had thought him _dead_. Kasmeer didn't understand. She felt abandoned in her worry, abandoned in the cold, icy snow in a winter night.

“I have scouted ahead. The Zephyrite ships crashed in Dry Top.”, Tivon told them. “We must help them.” The reunion was abruptly cut short by that. Jory frowned and Kasmeer gasped, and Braham, Rox and Taimi finally proceeded to step closer. “We have no time to lose. Come on.”

“Hold up.”, Braham said and raised a large, gloved hand. “What is going on? What are you doing here? Why are you here? We thought you were in the Grove.”

Tivon met his gaze evenly. “There will be time for that. But not now.”

It felt as if Tivon _shoved_ them all away. As if by some magic he had become someone else entirely. But it was him, even if his features were cold and unmoving, even when he spoke so nonchalantly and acted as if he hadn't known any of them for months.

As if they were not friends.

“We'll make time.”, Jory argued. “This...you must know how much we all worried about you.”

Such an emotional admission would have struck Tivon were he not someone else. “I know.”, Tivon said, and knew he sounded just like Taimi had when she had insisted to study Scarlet. As if he didn't understand at all. Their eyes were on him, and he could feel the hurt from them. They were his friends...or they used to be.

There was no telling if they would accept him now.

“I will tell you what I can on the way.”, Tivon finally agreed. “But we must make haste.”

Hesitantly and reluctantly they followed him, studying him. Assessing. Wondering. Hesitant. But they followed him through the thicket, through a path that opened just for him with his new found magic that was still highly experimental and new to him. He learned more and more day by day, got used to the feeling of magic pouring from within, and wondered how different his life would have been had he discovered this earlier.

“I rested in the Grove.”, Tivon told them as he ducked beneath a low hanging vine and heard Braham curse behind him when his pouldron got stuck. Rox helped free him with a chuckle. “When I awakened, I made the decision to become Soundless.”

“Soundless?”, Jory repeated with a frown and held a thin branch away for Kasmeer to pass by before she let it snap back where it oscillated and then stilled behind them

“The sylvari are split into three factions.”, Tivon began. “The Dreamers, the Nightmare, and the Soundless. The Soundless are a group that have cut themselves off from the Pale Tree, and meditate to keep their mind away from the Dream.”

“Why?”, Kasmeer asked. “Why did you cut yourself off?”

Tivon stared at her for a moment. “That is a loaded question.”, he admitted. “For another time.”

“Tell us what you are doing here, then.”, Jory lead the conversation.

“The dragon Scarlet woke is my Wyld Hunt. It is my purpose to defeat it.”

“Not alone.”, Rox suddenly cut in. “We're going to help you.”

Tivon suddenly stood still and mustered her, searching for dishonesty, but the Charr had no knack for such a thing. He recognized the many lucky charms around her neck that chimed softly when she came to a halt, and slowly his gaze drifted over the others as well.

Braham and his large form, red hair shaved on one half of his head, the other long and hanging down over his shoulder in a ponytail. Heavy mace at his waist, and shield at his back, blue norn clothing barely covering his broad chest.

Kasmeer in her glorious and glamorous attire, revealing her body and her curves, golden and white highlighting the pale of her skin. Her bodice was tight, and the skirt covering the side and back of her legs was a dress and tangle of feathers that shifted in the slight breeze.

Majory had her dark dress on, neck cut out neatly to reveal the pale skin beneath, a soft flush of dark plush covering the neck. The pin in her hair was her mark; she always wore it, whether in battle or for comfort.

They had changed so little. And he...

“I am not the same.”, he said slowly and thoughtfully. “I never will be again.”

“That doesn't matter.”, Kasmeer was the first to say and her hand rose toward his arm, fingers curling gently around his biceps as she squeezed in a gesture of comfort. “We're friends. And you're alive. That is...”, she took a deep breath that hitched in her chest, and she gulped down the desire to cry. “...all that matters.”, she finished and added, “I am so happy you are alive.”

Tivon nodded slowly. “Thank you.”, he murmured, and felt a strong hand on his shoulder. When he looked over to the side, Braham gave him a broad, encouraging smile, his hand tightening slightly around his shoulder, and Jory stepped closer as well, her hand coming to rest on Tivon's upper back, giving him one of her rare, gentle smiles.

He didn't know what to do. They were all looking at him, as if they expected for him to speak, and suddenly the eerie moment was broken when Rox spat on the ground with a loud noise that cleared the snot from her throat. They all turned in surprise, and Rox shrugged her large shoulder and grinned, revealing her sharp, white talons.

“For luck.”, she said, and quite despite themselves, they all chuckled and laughed, and Tivon smiled softly.

 _Perhaps_ , he thought, _I was worried for nothing at all._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The group is back! Whoop! :D


	20. Fallen Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. What can I even say? I am spoiling you all now, I know (4 Chapters on one weekend? CRAZY. ABSOLUTELY CRAZY.) But boy, I can't keep this to my myself. I don't want to. Shared joy increases exponentially.  
> Enjoy, peeps. :3

They went through the brambles and vines crossing their path, exploring beyond the limits of the world they had come to know. Beyond lay wastes of large cliffs, rocks and stone looming up high in the air, sand covering absolutely everything and whistling through the air. It was stifling hot, the sun high in the sky, but it was not the land, not the temperature, not the heavy air that was difficult to take in.

It was the many wreckages of Zephyrite ships they found. Debris and piles of wood burning ablaze in the distance, clouds of smoke rising into the sky in pillars. Talking to the survivors bore little fruit; they were in shock, barely even able to recite what had happened.

Tivon tended to their wounds, noticing the way they shrunk away from him for barely an instant and wondered which part of him looked intimidating. Was it his ashen skin, the gnarled, empty branches atop his head, or his stern expression? He could not tell, but was glad to ease their anxiety with gentle gestures and words, the magic flooding through his fingertips in pulsing, easing warmth.

The healing magic cleaned the wounds, brought the matrices of the skin to grow and weave to form scar tissue, and Tivon was just as interested to see the process of healing as those that mustered his work with awe and reverie.

Sylvari did not retain scars. Their bark and fibres wove and grew until the former tissue and form was restored, leaving its former flexibility and functionality intact. Humans were much different in that regard, their skin remembering every blemish, the body holding on to every wound or impairment ever inflicted upon it.

“Thank you.”, the woman breathed, and Tivon lifted his eyes from the scar, noticed that the tissue was paler than the rest of her sun-kissed skin. Curious.

“What happened?”, he asked, remaining crouched in front of her while she sat, and her blue eyes averted and he could see the terror and fear in them.

“I...I am not sure.”, she stuttered and pulled her hand toward her chest in a defensive manner, as if she intended to curl into a ball and ignore the world around her. “We were sailing swiftly through the sky and then there was this explosion, I heard screams and then we were falling-” Her breath catches and her eyes close, the memory inflicting a pain on her that was visibly to Tivon only due to her trembling body. “We crashed and...now we're stranded. Alone. The Master of Peace is gone.”

“Your leader.”, Tivon mentioned and she nodded, eyes slowly finding his again, and he saw recognition behind her eyes and knew there was something she was not telling him, but he knew better than to press. “We will find him.”, he reassured her instead and she gave one, curt nod and followed his movements as he rose.

“I can't believe it.”, Kasmeer murmured behind him, her eyes scanning over the debris in the distance. It was scattered throughout, and there was no way to ignore it even if they wished. A clear testament to a disaster that somehow had happened – and nobody knew why. Or how.

“Come on.”, Tivon nodded ahead toward the distance. It was a careful climb and walk through the ledges and advances of the pillars of stone that surrounded them, their steps careful and calculated. Beyond the edges loomed a fall of a few feet, sometimes even larger, but Tivon's eyes were trained on the distance where a large ledge offered sight on one of the larger ships that had crashed, and if any had survived they surely needed assistance.

The cliffs ahead were adorned with platforms of wood that reached higher and higher, created by the Zephyrite survivors for easier passing, and it was Taimi that stopped them before proceeding. “That structure is unstable.”, she said and pointed toward the planks of wood ahead. “It would be unwise for us to go in. Scruffy's scan confirms that it won't support all our weight. According to my calculations, the most efficient combination would be Tivon, Marjory, and Kasmeer. The rest of us can wait out here.”

“Did she just call us fat, Braham?”, Rox asked with a side-glance.

“Yup.”, Braham nodded. “She sure did.”

“Facts are facts.”, Taimi shrugged. “The three of us together weigh as much as nineteen Kasmeers.”

“Great.”, Kasmeer beamed, eyes sparkling with delight. “I'm a unit of measurement.”

“We'll holler for the rest of you if we need something smashed.”, Jory assured them. “You lead on, Tiv.”

Tivon nodded curtly and went onward. Astoundingly, he found it rather natural to lead them through this. He'd discovered the wreckage just about half an hour ago before he had decided to turn back in search for help. He'd never expected to find his friends here, much less for them to join him.

He was aware of how cold and nonchalant he must seem. As if he didn't care. But that was not the entire truth. He simply failed to find the sympathy resonating in him. He cared for them, for their well-being, and he'd protect them with his life if he had to.

The pain of their worry...it was like a soft slap against the hardened diamond inside Tivon that didn't budge, but he could feel their influence tearing at him, his resolve for this path...but he had to do this. _This is the only way_ , Tivon reminded himself.

“These abilities of yours...”, Jory finally brought up, and Tivon glanced at her before pulling himself up on the ledge. “What are they?”

“Nature magic.”, Tivon replied curtly, but knew it was as little and explanation as none, so he continued. “I am able to manipulate my surroundings, and have found that the magic can be used to heal minor wounds. I am uncertain to which extent these abilities can be expanded, however.”

“It's impressive.”, Jory praised with a smile. “And handy. We'll figure out how it works.”

“No need to inflict unnecessary impairments simply for training purposes.”, Tivon said, and Jory chuckled.

“Did you just joke? At least your humor is intact.”

He gave her a faint smile before he turned to Kas who spoke up. “How...are you holding up?”

“I am fine.”, he said and she nodded slowly, her eyes studying him as if assessing him anew. It was only fair, he thought. As much as he needed to get used to this, so did she. So did they.

“It's weird to see you like this.”, she admitted when she climbed after him and she accepted his outstretched arm to pull her up. She was lighter than he remembered. “I'm used to the jokes and the energy. Now you're just...”, she tried to find the right word as she straightened beside him and Tivon knew, and it came as he had expected, “...cold.”, she finished, uncertainly, as if she did not meant it.

“I still care.”, he explained. “I have cut myself off from the Dream, from its weight, and the empathy toward other sylvari. You are my friends, and I care for you. But I had to chose between the Nightmare, this, and death.”

“It...must have been hard.”, Kasmeer murmured.

“It is.”, Tivon said, and corrected her at the same time. “I'll never be freed of the temptation of nightmare lurking at the edge of my consciousness. It is a constant effort that I will have to make for the rest of my life.”

Kasmeer looked away, eyes full of frustration and raw and bare _anger_ , but Tivon knew she was not angry at him. “That snake.”, she cursed with a hiss. “We should have killed him.”

“I would not let you.”, Tivon answered and was met with two surprised pairs of eyes, Majory making it clear now that she was listening, even though until now she had let Kasmeer speak her mind.

“You mean,” Jory clarified and ducked beneath a low hanging plank, her dark eyes fixing on him, “You _wouldn't have_ let her.”

Why did that sound like a question and plea at once?

“No.”, Tivon corrected, “Even now, I would not let you.”

Kasmeer stood stock still, her eyes wide, and her lower lip trembled as she gathered the words that came through her mind like a lightning storm. “Tiv, he...”, she began, and he could see the confusion and frustration boiling beneath her skin when he stood still and turned toward her. “He almost _killed_ you.”, she finally brought out, disbelief making her voice pitch higher.

“That changes little, if nothing at all.”, Tivon replied and he could see that she didn't understand, that she shook with the fact that the emotion of wrath and anger was enough to fill not only herself, but himself too if he let it. But he didn't. It caromed on him, an emotion that was not foreign or lost at all, but simply of no use.

“Then...”, Kasmeer continued and she stepped closer. “You still...you still love him? After all that he did? After what he did to you?”

There was a small pause in which Tivon considered his words carefully. “It is the sole solace of my existence, beside my Wyld Hunt.”, he finally admitted.

“ _Solace_?”, Kasmeer asked and her voice cracked half-way through the word.

“It is all of me that is left.”, Tivon told her, and she looked as if struck by lightning. “Everything else...I have to discover anew.” He did not know why he spoke of this now. He'd never told any of the other Soundless of this. It had felt too deep, delving into the depths of himself, pouring out his soul. “I wanted to keep it.”, he admitted. “I wanted to keep that love alive. Perhaps because of infantile naivete, or inane hope, but I couldn't let go. I still do not want to. So I had to chose between Death or being Soundless.” Nightmare had never been an option. Death on the other hand...Tivon had considered it. Now, he was glad he had chosen this path instead, laden with difficulty as it was. It was like balancing upon a blade. Each thought had to be guarded in his own mind, lest he crack his own defenses.

“You want to keep loving him?”, Kasmeer breathed. “Why?”

“The Pale Tree told me that love is pure.”, Tivon answered solemnly. “It was through this that Derwen intended to corrupt me. What better victory than to defy his very work with the emotion he wanted to exploit?”

It was the first time he'd said Derwen's name in a long time. He'd never told the Soundless the name, he hadn't spoken it. To hear it, with his own voice, in his own ears, it rang through him like a large bell, high and keen.

The diamond rattled, shook....and held.

This was not about revenge, or some sweet satisfaction to have withstood Derwen. This was about being better, about keeping the love that had made him feel warm and happy and _whole_ , it was about keeping that innocence alive. A perfection that would otherwise be lost. He still felt the tug of it in his chest at times, when he was weaker or exhausted, or just before mediation.

It would rattle through him, the yearning to have something so exalted and grand in his life again, to love and _be loved_.

Even though he knew little of what feelings Derwen truly held for him. For all Tivon knew, the sylvari could very well hate him. That thought made him infinitely sad, and he interrupted his train of thought with a sharp shake of his head.

 _No_ , he quickly told himself _. Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling._

Kasmeer looked melancholic and dispirited, as if he had told her he would die someday soon. “Tiv...”, she murmured and shook her head, a blonde strand of hair falling in front of her face. She took a deep, steadying breath and did not meet his gaze for a few moments. They pain upon her features was a pain of sympathy and part of him was grateful that she felt that way, the other found it unnecessary. His pain was not hers. She did not need to bear it. “I don't get it.”, she admitted. “But I'll try to.”

Tivon smiled softly at that. “We will have plenty of time to delve into everything that happened. I imagine there is one or the other thing that I missed while I have been away.”

“Not much.”, Jory was the one to say. “We met in The Dead End to celebrate Scarlet's victory, we were in Lion's Arch when Kiel announced that the Zephyrites would help rebuilt Lion's Arch, and we enjoyed ourselves at the Bazaar of the Four Winds. E sent me a letter a while ago, telling of strange happening in the Brisban Wildlands, which is why we all are here.”

“I see.”, Tivon said. “Do we have an idea who E is yet?”

“No.”, Jory shrugged. “But I am collecting information. I'll figure it out.”

It was not long before they were stopped and came to a halt once more. There was a large cleft ahead, wide and gaping. It was clear that a bridge had been here once, but it had been blown away

“Hold on. I'll cast...”, Kasmeer said, but when she made a motion with her hand, nothing happened. “Wait. Something's wrong.”

“What's the matter, doll?”, Jory asked.

“I can't form a portal. Something here is blocking me.”, Kasmeer murmured and gazed over the ledges, and there, on the other side of the ravine was a small device that blinked from behind a rock, barely noticeable in the glare of the sun.

Tivon held out his staff and Kasmeer grasped it carefully, and with a swift movement he pulled his bow from his shoulders, an arrow knocked in with a nimble movement of his hand. The movement was completely fluid and he lifted the bow, aimed for barely a second and then let the arrow wheeze through the air where it scrapped against the stone just barely and hit the device the protruded behind it.

It made a crackling noise, electricity sizzled and Kasmeer held out his staff for him once he sheathed his bow. “Good shot.”, she praised, and Tivon only nodded. It had been some time since he had fought anyone or anything, and he felt a bit rusty.

Kasmeer's portal brought them to the other side. Tivon's eyes wandered over the wreckage and he could see golem parts and knew that the Inquest were involved once again. They would salvage anything if they could, claiming this to be their research site.

From behind a set of stones he could hear a pained gasp and noticed one of the Zephyrites, blonde hair dishevelled, soot and dirt on her face, hand clutching a fatal gut wound that would claim her soon. She glanced up at him with clouded eyes when he placed down his staff beside her and raised his hands over her wound tentatively and she shrunk away from his fingers, eyes filling with fear. For a moment he could see the terror in her eyes and then, slowly, she seemed to recognize him. Or recognize him to be _not_ who she had imagined.

She took a staccato breath before she spoke, her voice low. “Please.”, she whispered, and her lips trembled at the effort.

“She's alive but hurt badly.”, Tivon told Kas and Jory that approached behind them, and he poured some magic into his fingertips, rejuvenating and careful, and the woman seemed to relax slightly, pain easing from her features.

“You're going to be okay. My friends and I will get you out of here.”, Jory soothed the woman, but the Zephyrite shook her head wildly.

“F-f-forget about me.”, she stuttered and hissed through her teeth. “The Master of Peace is in danger. Someone has to go find him and protect him.”

“The Master of Peace? Your leader? Where is he? Why is he in danger?”, Jory asked and the woman shifted, and new spurts of blood dripped forth from the wound, and the carefully woven parts and matrices of her skin Tivon had sown together ripped open once again, undoing all his work, but he tugged at the pool of his magic patiently, attempting to save what he could.

“I don't...know why. But the sylvari is trying to kill him. Please...”, the woman said and where she had been propped up on one of her elbows she lost her strength and her elbow caved in. Tivon grasped her shoulders and pulled her closer to his chest with his free arm, but he felt the life waning from her like the sunlight did at dusk, and the woman's eyes turned glassy, there was one last breath and she gazed up at Tivon, lips trembling...

“Hey. Hey! Stay with me.”, Jory said and leaned in, and the woman's breath stuttered, hitched, and then her body fell limp into Tivon's arm, her head fell back and her hand slid over her stomach to the stone floor, leaving a smear of blood over her bright, yellow robe. “Ahh...damn. She's dead.”, Jory cursed.

“I hate to speak ill of the dead, but that Zephyrite was lying.”, Kasmer said from behind them and Tivon gently placed the body onto the ground, brushed his hands on his thighs.

“About what?”, Jory asked.

“Don't get me wrong.”, Kasmeer said quickly. “She was very afraid for the Master of Peace. But when she said she didn't know why he was in danger...I could tell. She was lying.”

“Why would she lie? Are you sure?”, Jory frowned.

“Absolutely. It was in her posture and in her eyes. She didn't give us the whole truth.”

Jory nodded. “I believe you. Let's press on and see if we can find any more answers.”

Tivon rose from his crouch and grabbed his staff as he erected himself. “It's one tragedy after another.”, Jory murmured. “First Lion's Arch and now this terrible accident. What's happening to our world?”

“This was no accident.”, Tivon murmured and gestured around them. “Look at those bodies.” The Zephyrite they had found was not the only one. Many corpses lay tangled and scattered over the whole site. “Their bodies are riddled with knife wounds. This one's too. Her gut wound was from no blunt object. They didn't die in the crash. They were attacked.”

“Before the crash.”, Jory caught up and moved to inspect one body more closely. She was silent for multiple minutes before she checked another, just to test her theory, then she rose. “Something happened on the ship. The Zephyrites always seemed so gentle to me, but these died fighting. There are defensive wounds on their hands and arms, as if they were shielding themselves from their attacker.”

“No culture survives long without learning to defend itself.”, Tivon murmured.

“So many of them. It must have been a large force that attacked.”

“I don't think so.”, Tivon disagreed. “The stab wounds are from the same blade. No variation.”

“Yes—as if inflicted by one lone attacker.”, Jory conceded, eyes gliding over the stab wounds.

“A formidable attacker who took them down single-handed.”, Tivon noted. Whoever it had been, he must have been staggeringly outnumbered, and yet succeeded. The woman had mentioned a sylvari, perhaps that was the link. It certainly explained why the Zephyrites shrunk away from him at first.

“Them and their airship.”, Jory brought in. “An accomplished saboteur, then.”

Tivon wandered over the site, eyes gliding through the wreckage and caught on a sheet of paper that fluttered in the wind. He pulled it free from beneath a stone and frowned as he read it. The page torn from a mission log had a single phrase scrawled across it: _"I turn my back on you, Mother. My solo voice of truth will dampen the cacophony of fools. —Aerin.”_

“What did you find?”, Jory asked when she came closer.

“It's a Soundless mantra for meditation, scrawled on someone's personal logbook.” He showed it to her and she frowned.

“Do you think this sylvari was a Soundless? Is he evil?”

“No sylvari is inherently evil.”, Tivon assured her. “But some choose that path.”

“So we're looking for a Soundless sylvari who no longer enjoys the protection of the Pale Tree.”

“And who is most likely male, judging from the name.”, Tivon added.

Behind them, Kasmeer chuckled. “Jory, you sound downright excited.”

Jory grinned. “The plot thickens, my dear. Of course I'm excited.”

“We should investigate the wreckage.”, Tivon said and nodded toward the various parts of debris that scattered over the stone site. There was so much of it, Tivon barely knew how to begin, and his eyes scanned over the scorch marks. The wood was blast-scorched in an explosion, rather than slow-burned, as seen on most of the other wreckage.

“Weird.”, Kasmeer murmured. “Some of this wreckage isn't fresh.”

“The scorch marks and heavy damage to these airship support beams is consistent with explosives. A bomb was likely placed near them.”, Jory called from where she was studying an array of beams.

“That seems to confirm sabotage.”, Tivon decided. He wondered if he would be able to track them down, both the Master of Peace and the sylvari they were looking for.

“I doubt the Master of Peace knows this area any better than we do. If you were him and being pursued, where would you go?”, Jory asked him as if she had read his mind.

“Hm.”, he made thoughtfully. “I'd head for the closest town.”

“That makes sense.”, Jory agreed. “Okay, then. We should head into that town there.” She pointed toward the distance where they could barely see a hint of a small town carved into a cave that shielded them away from the sun, a large river of sand gliding by before their very doorstep.

“I'll go.”, Tivon offered. “You stay here and tie up the investigation.”

“Sure, boss.”, Jory grinned, and he didn't mind that title at all. “You don't mind going by yourself?”

“I'll take Rox, Braham, and Taimi with me.”, Tivon said. If the three of them would follow him, that was, but Jory did not seem to have any doubt.

“Okay. We'll meet you when we're done here.”, Jory agreed with a nod and was already turning away.

Behind him, Tivon could hear Kasmeer. “Jory?”, she asked hesitantly as Tivon made his way down, climbing down the way they had come.

“Yes, dear?”, Jory asked, her voice slowly fading in the distance.

“I was hoping we'd have a break from the death and destruction once Scarlet was gone.”, Kasmeer sighed.

“Unfortunately, I believe Scarlet was just the tip of a very large, very deep iceberg.”, Jory murmured, and Tivon didn't stay to listen to the rest. He quickly made his way back to the others who seemed to have engaged in some kind of stone-throwing contest with Frostbite retrieving their thrown items.

“That's cheating!”, Taimi called when Tivon arrived with a soft tap of his feet, landing on the stone beneath and Braham jolted upright, mace in hand, head whirling when he stilled in surprise.

“Oh.”, the norn made and sheathed the mace quickly. “It's you. By bear's hide, I didn't hear you.”

“I am sorry for startling you.”, Tivon said. “Jory and Kas are investigating the crash site. We discovered that a sylvari sabotaged the ships and attacked the Zephyrite members. He was after the Master of Peace, and I am heading into the nearest village to discover more.”

“Right behind you.”, Rox said and rose to her paws, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders when she stood. Clearly they had sat here for quite some time, and Taimi climbed up into Scruffy.

Tivon felt their eyes linger on him and without another thought he turned and led them through the maze of stone pillars and cliffs, his thoughts churning and focussed on the task at hand, silence settling over them when Taimi suddenly chirped.

“So, you're Soundless?”

“Hm.”, he made as an answer, eyes glazing over the distance. The village was still far away, and they would have to somehow make their way down below and cross the sandy wasteland, at least a small part of it, before they arrived.

“How does that work?”, she continued, and only now did he focus on her questions.

“We meditate to sever our connection.”, Tivon answered. “It is a mental exercise we must upkeep.”

“What happens if you don't?”, Taimi continued and Rox made a low growling noise in her throat as a warning.

“My connection to the Dream would re-establish, and all the emotions and traumatic experiences that I keep locked away will poison the Dream.”

“So you just keep it all hurdled and bundled up in there?”, Taimi frowned. “That doesn't sound healthy.”

“There is no antidote to this kind of poison.”, Tivon said solemnly. _Not when I keep the emotion intact. So long as I hold on, it will never cease to be less poisonous._

“Surely your one experience won't cloud the entirety of the Dream.”, Taimi argued. “You're one sylvari of thousands. If every little heartbreak meant the Dream's demise, your people would all fall to Nightmare.”

“Taimi.” This time it was Braham that cut in, his eyes looking at her through Scruffy's visor.

“It is quite alright, Braham.”, Tivon said quickly to dissolve any tension. “She is not wrong.”

“See?”, Taimi sneered.

“That doesn't mean you get to shove it in his face.”, Braham growled, and this time, Taimi flinched at his tone. Braham was kind towards her, protective even, but he and Tivon...they were friends for longer, they'd been close. They had fought side by side, had relied upon one another, and Braham had seen the agony Tivon had to face all on his own. He had to watch as everything that had made Tivon the delightful, funny and humble Ranger fall away, wilting and withering, leaving the cold, closed-up sylvari standing in front of them that they had to come to know and understand, all anew.

He was not about to allow a _girl_ to make light of it.

“Please.”, Tivon supplicated and actually stopped and lifted his hands in a pacifying manner between them. “Do not fight over this. I am fine, and I am well, and I will answer all that I can. I owe you that, if not more.”

“You owe us nothing, Tiv.”, Rox argued, her face stern. She too gave Taimi a side-way glance as if she had been about to snap at the young asura.

“Yeah.”, Braham agreed. “What that bastard did to you is not your fault. Next time I see him, it'll be a fist to the face.”

Tivon sighed and shook his head. “You must understand one thing above all.”, Tivon said and lifted his head, was met with three pairs of eyes that watched him intently. “I love him. That will never change.”

He should have seen the outburst coming. Braham grew red in the face and frowned. “What?”, the norn hissed. “How can you even-”

Tivon held up a hand, and to his surprise Braham took a deep breath and stopped himself. “I don't want to lose that.”, Tivon admitted, and he felt the diamond rattle inside him again. He'd have to meditate again soon, find a small moment of peace or he might actually crack. Meeting his friends again, being confronted with all of this at once...it was a strong force he had underestimated. “I want to hold on to all those beautiful memories and the feeling of fulfilment. Of finding the other part of my soul. Of being whole.” There was a short pause, and he knew he could not continue this conversation much longer.

_The warmth of an embrace, the soft whisper against the shell of his ear, a chuckle that rattled from the others chest, beams of the sun filtering through the branches of a tree above, dancing like small speckles of gold on his bark._

“Is that foolish of me?”, he whispered, more to himself, a question he had asked himself over and _over_ , but he hadn't found an answer.

He saw Braham's sympathetic eyes, the gleam of understanding, and a large hand engulfed his shoulder, warm and steadying. “Dunno.”, Braham said, and Tivon could see the beginning of a quip, the uprising of the corners of his mouth into a smile, “Sounds pretty damn stupid to me.”

“Ha.”, Tivon made and smiled up at him. “Says the one who hunted fluffy rabbits.”

“Hey.”, Braham said. “How long am I going to be reminded of that?”

“Always.”, Rox grinned, and Taimi leaned forward in her seat with an intrigued expression.

“What rabbits?”, she asked, and Tivon chuckled, Rox laughed, and Braham groaned.

“Nobody tell her.”, he begged. “Or I'll _never_ hear the end of it.”

“If you don't tell, you'll never hear the end of me pestering you.”, Taimi warned and threatened, and Braham rolled his eyes.

“I must have heard the wind talking. Odd.”

“Braham!”

Rox was laughing, and Tivon watched and smiled, grateful that even after everything, he still had a place among his friends, that they took him back, faults and all blemishes. His Wyld Hunt may call upon him, his feelings may never fade, but his one true place...

It was here.

 


	21. Tracking the Master of Peace/Cornered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are two LS Chapters in one, because they would have been to short on their own. So...yeah. This weekend was rather productive, so I am feeling free to upload all I can...simply because I want to. I can't wait to progress with the story. I AM SO EXCITED.  
> *Ahem*  
> Enjoy :3

They quickly discovered two things: That the village was called Prosperity, and that neither the Master of Peace nor the sylvari was anywhere near. A dead villager, killed only for interacting with the Zephyrites, stoked the fear in the villagers, but Tivon was able to palliate their worry.

One female villager who had witnessed the murder told them that they were headed to the Spurbend Canyon, and on their way there the fruit of their chase was marked by many scattered pages of parchment that were bleached and crumbled from exposure to the harsh and humid weather.

“This...”, Tivon murmured and held up a hand to cover his eyes from the grains of sand that drifted into his face. “This seems to be from a Zephyrite history book.”

“So, the Master of Peace left a trail.”, Taimi grumbled, and he could hear her _“He's an idiot for leaving such an obvious trail.”_ , but was glad she held it back.

“Seemingly.”, Tivon conceded. He was already writing a message, the parchment bared against his thigh, arm shielding the pen away from any sand. When he was finished Vail stretched out his leg and Tivon attached the message, and the Raven took into the air. “That will be our trail. Let's go.”, Tivon murmured and nodded ahead.

They had barely made it a few meters when Tivon made out something coming toward them through the thick veil of sand that was like a beige wall, and Braham squinted his eyes. “What is that?”, Braham asked and Tivon already knew, stepping closer to the quickly approaching creature.

There was the soft crunching of sand underneath its legs and then Kota came forth, chirping up at him happily, various strange items it had found clenched in its claws. Pieces of papers, old, worn and torn clothing, even a bone.

Tivon crouched and took the items and inspected them, while his other hand petted the Karka lightly. “Well done.”, he praised and heard Braham's massive boots march over the sand, grains crunching beneath.

“Is...is that the Karka?”, Rox asked and Frostbite approached the Karka carefully, eyes turning from one side to the other, body tense and swaying back and forth as if considering.

“Yes.”, Tivon answered, mind elsewhere, sifting through the pages Kota had brought him, but there was nothing new here. More scribbles of Zephyrite history that was interesting, but currently not aiding in their mission.

He only looked up when Kota made an affronted kind of chirp and Tivon saw that Frostbite had playfully pecked at Kota's shell with his pointed tail, and Kota had gone into a defensive position, drawing all four legs in around itself, sheltering its body away from the playful attack.

“He's grown.”, Rox noted.

Tivon stood and put all the evidence – save for the bone, he discarded that when Kota was not looking – in his backpack and then looked back to Rox. “He has.”, he conceded, and there was a fond note in his tone.

Once Tivon was moving Kota moved up beside him, sharps legs digging into the sand and leaving a trail behind that would be covered and evened by the soft shift of sand in no time at all.

When they reached their target destination – a large advanced cliff – Tivon excused himself to seek a more sheltered and quiet location to attempt meditation, at least for a little while until Kas and Jory arrived.

 _Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling.,_ he echoed in his head, over and over again. _Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter._

That sinking feeling took longer to achieve than he was used to, and it was a great comfort that he found it. That cold sea washed him clean once again, coating over every small blemish left upon the cage, and he surfaced only when someone tapped him gently on his shoulder.

He blinked his eyes open and Kasmeer looked apologetic, her teeth biting her lower lip in apprehension and uncertainty. “I'm...”, she began, and then started again. “I'm sorry. We're all here.”

“Don't be.”, Tivon rose. “It's fine.”

The high canyons that loomed over their heads kept most of the shifting sand away, allowing the tracks and traces to remain for longer. Tivon could discern them in the sand and dirt and they followed him, silence growing slightly eerie with every bit they gained.

About half an hour later, they found themselves in front of a large vine gate that stopped their path, even though Tivon could see that the tracks led right through. These vines...they were new.

“Scruffy can punch us a way through this vine gate.”, Taimi offered and Tivon took a step back, offering her space. The golem erected itself, pulled both hands back and punched with a loud crunching noise through the vines, breaking them away effectively.

Around the next bend they heard a voice, muttering and cursing. “Is it here?”, the male mumbled. “It must be here. Somewhere. No...”

“There he is!”, Braham said and charged forward. His heavy steps announced him, as well as his bellowing voice. “Stop!”

The male sylvari whirled around, eyes turning toward them, and Tivon recognized that crazed look. The sylvari was the color of a sun-kissed green, features sharp and keen, the foliage atop his head mere branches that angled away from his head with a few flowers sprouting at the tips. He wore sylvari cultural armor that was bleached from weather and stains, some marks of soot and fire upon it where the leaves had been singed. “Where's the Master of Peace?”, Jory demanded.

“Go away!”, the sylvari cried. “Go away, go away, go away! He's mine!” And with a swing of his arm, the flash of something silver and a loud bang, they all cowered behind Braham who had raised his shield in time to protect them from a barrage of grenades. The sand and dust that whirled up brought a veil into the air that settled only slowly, and when it did, the sylvari was gone.

Thanks to the sand on the ground following the racks was fairly easy, and they followed the sylvari through the maze of the canyons. Around another bend Tivon saw a large advance, a ravine and at the other side stood the sylvari who was whirling around, head turning to the sides and neck craning as if he was looking for something.

“Oh! There he is!”, Kas said.

“You said it would be here!”, the sylvari cursed in the distance, but there was no other he could be speaking to.”Somewhere, somewhere... Yes, you're right—getting close!”

“That gap is too large. I can't get us across from here.”, Kas murmured as she stepped toward the edge, and Tivon's eyes wandered over the walls for any indication at all how the sylvari had made it across. There were cracks in the stones, but other than that there were no signs at all.

“Have no fear.”, Taimi chirped. “The option to have Scruffy toss us over is still—“

“No.”, Rox was the first to say.

“Thank you for the offer, Taimi, but I'm inclined to agree with Rox.”, Kas agreed with a gentle smile.

“I could conjure up a bone bridge, but it wouldn't cross the whole distance. It won't last forever, but it might last long enough for one of you to get across.”, Jory offered.

“I'll go. Once I'm on the other side, I can weave a portal between here and there. I'll just need you to watch my back.”

The bone bridge Jory had mentioned was a grotesque set of rips that burst from the side of the stone, covering part of the gap, tendons and flesh still clinging to the bone. Tivon's inner sense of nature seemed to shiver at the sight and his fingers curled tighter around his staff.

It was unnatural. Life after death... that was not nature. Nature was seed, was growth and then...and end. Finite.

He crossed nonetheless once Kas wove a portal, and the tug of the mesmer magic was familiar like an old ache in his chest. He didn't give the thought and the memories that surfaced any time to bloom and pushed them down.

“We'll follow your lead.”, Jory nodded towards him and he followed the tracks with ease, heard Vail high over his head flying over the canyons, while Kota was right beside him, skittering through the sand.

“No no no. Not right. Perhaps...”, they heard once again.

“We can't let him get away again.”, Jory grumbled.

“Hey!”, Brahams loud voice boomed, catching the attention of the sylvari that stood in the distance atop a platform. “Stop what you're doing—right this minute!”

The sylvari mustered them. “Not on your life, though perhaps on your death. I will continue, and I will be victorious.”

When Aerin reached into a belt at his waist and made a throwing motion, Tivon could see the glinting of metallic capsules in the light filtering through the cracks from above and he lifted his staff. From the earth untangled vines and thorns and branches, curling at their feet, and from them bloomed small flowers and a thin sheet of mist lifted that wove into the air like molten glass, distorting the sylvari in front of them for a moment.

The grenades flew toward them, toward the wall Tivon had created, impacted and reflected backwards. The sylvari lifted his arms and the explosions rumbled and echoed loudly among the walls of stone, and the sylvari cursed loudly. “Enough, enough!”, he screamed and when he erected himself, he looked a little disheveled , but unharmed. “Pfah. He's taking it farther away. You waste my time!”

When he made to turn Kas yelled “Don't let him escape!”, but before any of them could throw a spell after him or shoot an arrow, from atop an advance that had been empty just moments before came a voice, loud and stern.

“Aerin!”

Their gazes looked upward, startled, and Tivon saw an old, human male, hair white from age, beard upon his chin, a yellow Zephyrite robe covering his body. Even from the distance, Tivon could see the frown upon the old man's face.

“What?”, Aerin made and whirled around on the spot like a dog chasing its own tail before his eyes settled upon the figure. “Huh? You're here!”

“Aerin, you have broken your Zephyrite vows.”, the man said, disappointed, and Tivon realized that this man must be the Master of Peace.

“Trivial vows. Trivial people. I've seen the bigger picture. You are in my way.”, Aerin grumbled, almost spat, and he reached down into his pockets for more of his grenades.

“You've lost your mind and your true heart. I'm sorry.”, the Master of Peace shook his head in dismay. “You will not prevail.”

Aerin let out a frustrated cry that turned into a broken gasp, and Tivon felt no pity when the sylvari stumbled forward and glanced down at the arrowhead protruding from his chest, and beside Tivon Rox slowly lowered her bow with a grim expression.

The sylvari made another step, made a chocked noise, and then fell to his knees, tumbling over the edge and landing with a sickening thud and _crunch_ in the sand below where he lay still, lifeless eyes staring up toward the sky.

The Master of Peace looked over toward them from the distance. “Thank you for your service. I'm sorry you got involved in my troubles.”

“Why was he after you?”, Taimi wanted to know, her voice changed from within Scruffy's confinement.

“He started losing his mind on the ship. He's the one who sabotaged it, you know.”

“Yes, we know.”, Rox frowned. “Did he want revenge on you for something?”

“No. He wanted me to give him power. Great power that he couldn't handle. I refused. He could not let it go.”

“Will you come back now?”, Kas asked hopefully and even offered, “We can escort you.”

“No. My journey has only just begun. You will tell my people that I am well and that I continue onward?”, the Master of Peace asked uncertainly, but Tivon had a feeling the man would continue whether they did, or didn't.

“Yeah, sure. We'll tell them.”, Braham reassured the man, but he too was frowning. “Won't they ask where you're going?”

“No. Those who don't know my destination know enough not to ask.”, the Master of Peace answered mysteriously. “Be well. I'm glad our paths crossed today.” The man turned away and left through a cleft in the stone, and there was little they could do but let the man go.

“We should check his body.”, Jory gestured toward Aerin. “I want to know everything there is to know about him. We came through Prosperity. Maybe some of us should go back there, see who else saw him.”

Jory crouched beside the body and skimmed through Aerin's pockets. From the belt she pulled a small piece of paper, torn at the left side and frowned.

“What does it say?”, Kas asked behind her and Jory read out loud,

“' _...leader will die. The rest will fall in line. We will not fail.'_ I have to confess, his insane ramblings remind me uncomfortably of Scarlet.”

“They could have been allies.”, Tivon put in, and Jory nodded thoughtfully.

“It's possible, but he didn't mention her specifically.”

“I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong.”, Taimi cut in. “This criminal was nothing like Scarlet. She has—had—vision. This guy was just...pitiful. Explosives? Really? Those went out of style in the 1200s.”

Braham broke the awkward silence. “Look, why don't Rox and I head back to Prosperity. You can meet us there. I'm starving.”, Braham suddenly cut in, and when Tivon cast him a glance with a curl at his lips, Braham grinned back.

“I'll come with you.”, Tivon offered, and Braham nodded.

“Don't you find it strange that the Zephyrite leader would walk off into the wilderness when his people are lying...in ruins? What could possibly be so important?”, Kas murmured. “I've heard some of the Zephyrites talking about certain treasures they were carrying on the ship. Perhaps...I don't know. Perhaps he's looking for them.”

“Or perhaps he's safeguarding them.”, Tivon shrugged.

“You don't suppose that's why the saboteur was after him? Trying to get his hands on the Zephyrite treasure?”

“If so, it answers some of our questions.”, Tivon answered carefully. Only some, but not all. “You investigate the body while we head out. We'll meet back in Prosperity.”

“Food!”, Braham cheered and cleared his throat when his companions threw him mirthful glances. “I wasn't kidding.”, the norn shrugged. “I _am_ starving.”

“Then let's go.”, Rox quipped. “Before you try snacking on Frostbite.”

“I'd never.”, Braham assured her. “Although the times he chewed on my mace handle -”

“I apologized for that.”, Rox cut in with a grin and Braham shrugged.

“All I am saying is -”

“Guys?”, Tivon murmured from up on the ledge and Vail had already settled on his shoulder, dark, small eyes glancing at his friends in annoyance, and the both looked up at him. “I am going to leave you behind, you know.”

They couldn't help it. As Tivon disappeared over the top out of sight, they hurried after him with laughter and shaking heads.

  


 


	22. Prosperity's Secret/Scarlet's Secret Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY.  
> Ghosh. I am so busy studying I barely have a mind for writing. I am trying, and what keeps me going is the whole Mordremoth/Soundless thing that awaits me. Ah, glorious. Anyway, this is another two-in-one, because splitting them would have made them short. This is basically just group-shenanigans, and we finally get to meet (sort of) the great nemesis. Behold!

Tivon was content to leave Braham to munch on some bread as he approached the villagers to ask his questions. The village was small, carved into the side of the stone canyon, and hidden away well enough from the glare of the sun. There was a mine just down the road, a tavern and a few buildings made from clay and stone, and Tivon wondered where the name had come from.

What was strangest however was that while they had left, the whole of Prosperity had fallen victim to vines and thorns that had come from out of nowhere, curling and sinking into the facades of the buildings and crossing over the paths, making treading through the village a hardship.

The vines felt strange under Tivon's fingers, thrumming and pulsing with life and a strange magic, as if they beat from a different heart than the heart of the land. As if it was not nature that had conjured them.

That alone was not a source of worry, not in itself. An addition to the village, unevering as it was, perhaps. But what was a source of worry was the fact that the vines had killed villagers of their own accord, and now they seemed to rest, limp, but the pulse inside remained.

It was the same vines that had blocked the passage toward Aerin. The same strange magic and nature that Tivon did not recognise. His eyes trailed over the vines and thorns as he ducked beneath a low hanging branch and entered the tavern.

“Excuse me.”, Tivon said when he approached the man inside, although little could compel him to call it such. It was a building larger than any around, he'd give it that, but there was dust settling over the tables and chairs, and most shelves were deprived and empty. “Have you seen or spoken a strange sylvari around here?”

The man looked up from a small clay pot that he was dusting off. “Sure, but but not for a long while now. She was a creepy one, all right. Rolled into town with a huge load of crates and bought a place to hole up in.”

Tivon frowned. “She? I'm looking for a male.”

“In that case, haven't seen him. This other one though, she kept to herself and we let her be. You should have seen her, with those crazy red stalks growing out of her head...”

“Wait, really? Who'd know more about her?”, Tivon asked.

“Ask around, if anyone's left to ask. Maybe someone in town actually tried talking to her. When there was still a town here, I mean.”

“Thanks for the information.”, Tivon nodded and exited the tavern, eyes wandering toward the small well and the wooden bucket that rested at its side. Beside it stood a young woman, skin darkened by the exposure of the sun, and she looked more broad than other human females Tivon had seen. In comparison to Kas, she was almost bulky.

There was a man staring up toward a vine that was curled tightly around the body of a miner, the human male's eyes staring dead ahead. The man shivered and only turned his head when Tivon stood beside him.

“Uhhh. Oh gods, look what it did to him. That could have been me! What are those things?”, he asked.

“We're trying to figure that out.”, Tivon answered. “You know of a female sylvari who came here?”

“I remember her. She came 'round asking about rumors herself. Said she heard something about the mine and some magical underground river or something.”

“She was looking for it?”, Tivon wanted to know.

“I told her that if we hit an underground river, we'd abandon the mine, on account of how they tend to flood everything without notice and miners drown. That didn't discourage her.”, the ma shrugged, and Tivon could see the mans eyes dart up toward the thorns and vines once again.

“Did she find it? The underground river?”

“No idea.”, the man shook his head. “All I know is that she was looking for something. She had excavation equipment in her crates. Maybe she found it and it carried her away. I don't know.”

“Thanks.”, Tivon murmured and gestured for Braham and Rox to follow. Kota and Frostbite skittered over the sand together, making chirping noises at each other, shells clanking from time to time when they bumped into one another.

The woman standing at the well was already mustering him when he approached. “You've got that look in your eye.”, she noted. “What do you need?”

“Information on a sylvari who lived here.”

“I wouldn't say she lived here, just came and went.”, the woman shrugged and picked up the bucket. Tivon noticed her hands were calloused. A miner, then. “Moved equipment through here. She'd go into her room and wouldn't come out for days, sometimes weeks.”

“Do you know who she was?”, he continued to ask.

“Some engineer with obsession all over her. Far as I know, she never said more than three words to anyone, and only then if she needed food or supplies.”

“What was she doing here?”

“No idea. There are others around who know more about her than I do. I kept my distance from her while she was around.”

“Thanks.”, Tivon nodded and the woman brought the bucket onto the hook and lowered it into the well, not gesturing a goodbye.

Tivon was weighing the things the villagers had said in his head and was turning around when a woman bumped into him and she gasped in surprise when his fingers curled around her arm to catch her from falling. She gasped and blinked, and then steadied herself. “That came out of nowhere.”, she chuckled at herself.

“Are you alright?”, Tivon asked and saw that her dress was torn at the seams, that there was a cut across her cheek, blood long dried. But she shook her head.

“I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm assessing the situation with all this...”, she gestured around them, meaning the vines. “We do not have visitors often.”, she murmured thoughtfully and eyes Braham and Rox as well, and Tivon finally let go. “What do you need?”, the woman asked then and turned back to him.

“We are in no need for supplies.”, Tivon answered. “I just want directions, actually, to that mysterious sylvari's room.”

“You thinking of breaking in and looting her place?”, the woman frowned. “Not recommended. That one took personal security to a whole new level.”

“Do you know who she was?”

“She wasn't the friendly type, despite those perky red pigtail-flowers on her head. None of us figured she had anything worth the risk.”

In that, they had not been wrong. If this mysterious sylvari indeed was Scarlett, then they had done themselves a favor to not engage her.

“We want to take a look. Where is it?”, Tivon asked.

“It's right over there.”, the woman shrugged and pointed toward a door that looked as if it was made from thick, heavy metal, whatever had coated the outside rippling and shedding like a skin, signs of weather and wear clear upon the surface. “Remember, I warned you.”

“Appreciated.”, Tivon nodded and then moved toward the door the woman had gestured towards. He inspected it carefully. There was a crackle of magic that created a steady hum around the looked door. In all this chaos, it had been left untouched by the vines. Coincidence? Somehow, he did not think so.

“So, is it Scarlet?”, Braham asked and turned his head, eliciting a cracking noise from his cervical spine that made Tivon flinch.

“Possibly.”, Tivon murmured. “If it is, we should wait for Kas, Jory and Taimi.”

“And look out for traps.”, Rox cut in.

“And food.”, Braham put in. “Why'd you tell her we don't need supplies? I'm still hungry.”

“You already ate!”, Rox protested, but their banter already grew distant in Tivon's ears.

“I'll meditate until they arrive.”, he told them, and they cast him a look, but did not attempt to stop him when he sought a small secluded space close by and seated himself on the sandy ground, pulling his legs into a cross-legged position, and closed his eyes.

The sounds faded into the distance, the sound of Kota chirping and Forstbite protesting, the chatter of Braham and Rox, and he could feel their eyes on him and wondered if that was not part of his imagination.

_Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter._

That was his mantra. The words he kept repeating to himself to remind him of his purpose. The words that followed him everywhere, words he had found and formed to bring peace into his mind. Time slipped from his grasp, as did the space and environment around him, and he found himself in the confinement of his own thoughts, his mind, his head.

Not trapped. Not at all. Seeking to gaze upon all that which he kept hidden and stowed away. It felt...transcending. Empowering, every time that he came back here to refocus.

It was like lying in a tub full of water with the waves rushing over his skin softly, the water neither truly warm not truly cold. Washing and scrubbing him clean.

“Tiv.”, a hand shook his shoulder and he jolted from his state, blinked against the glare of the sun. He stared up at Braham, and saw the uncertainty in the norns eyes. “They're here, let's go.” Tivon nodded and accepted Brahams hand to stand.

“What are we waiting for? We're all sure it's Scarlet who was in here.”, Taimi urged, clearly annoyed and eager.

“You stand back. I'll break it down.”, Braham offered and made cracking noises with his knuckles before reaching for his mace.

“No, Braham.”, Tivon intervened and lifted his arm in front of Braham's chest, and to his surprise the norn immediately halted and looked down at him. “Not so fast.”

“Why?”, Braham asked in a protesting voice, but didn't make a move to brush past Tivon's arm.

“A more gentle approach.”, Tivon offered as an explanation, and felt for that magic once again. The vines of the earth moved to his will, sprouting from the ground, small and twisting in between the cracks of the door, climbing and pressuring the hinges until the metal creaked and cracked. The tug of pressure rose into his fingertips and into his palm before the door gave in and the door fell open.

The metal crashed upon the sandy floor, whirling up a thin veil of grey dust, and Tivon heard Braham behind him say, “Stay by me, Taimi.”

They moved forward carefully, Tivon first and Rox second, trained tracking eyes glazing over the room they found themselves in. Frostbite pushed past their feet, Kota following him eagerly.

“All clear!”, Rox called behind him, just when Frostbite, chased closely by Kota, crashed into a small wooden box and broke it, splinters scattering over the floor. Kota didn't have time enough to stop, four, scaled legs tumbling over themselves and the both pets lay in a heap of wooden splinters and tangled bodies, and Tivon and Rox cast each other a glance, uncertain whether they should apologize for their pet's behaviour, but they decided for small, mirthful smiles instead.

“Can you tell?”, Taimi asked, questions just streaming from her mouth in excitement. “Is it really Scarlet's room? What—oh!” Her eyes sparkled when she came in, and she made no attempt to hide it. “C'mon Braham! Get in here!”, she called.

Braham made a grumbling noise and came in after her, his eyes looking over the four walls, the desks and shelves and papers that lay gathered with a thick layer of dust. “Looks like the villagers were right. Scarlet was here.”

“The dust in here is thick. And these plants are all but dead. She definitely hasn't been here in a long time.”, Taimi murmured and she brushed past Tivon's feet before he could stop her. “Look, look, look! This is a historical find!”

“Careful, now.”, Jory cautioned. “You'll pop a gasket.”

“She hasn't been here in a very long time.”, Taimi demurred excitedly, her fingers touching everything, lifting books and papers, looking under instruments and panels and through constructions. “This—oh, and that! Great glarrgh!”

“Language.”, Jory quipped.

“Sorry.”, Taimi murmured and her ears flattened somewhat. “I didn't know you spoke ettin.”

“What is this place?”, Kas asked with a wary expression.

“What do you say we break open some of these crates. One good whack with my mace and—“, Braham was already lifting his weapon when Taimi burst toward him and lifted her arms to stop him.

“No, no!”, she protested loudly. “No, be careful. You could destroy something extremely valuable.”

“ We should probably report this find to somebody. Ellen Kiel, perhaps?”, Rox murmured.

“No, no!”, Taimi protested again and she looked as if she might pull out some of her hair in frustration. So much energy in such a little thing, Tivon found it quite wondrous. “Are you crazy? You can't tell anybody. They'd come and take it all away. I need time.”

“What do you need time for? You don't need to be digging in this old junk.”, Braham dead-panned.

“It is not junk.”, Taimi shot back.

“Scarlet's dead. Let's let sleeping dragons lie.”, Jory shrugged.

“I found something interesting over here.”, Kas called from the other side of the room and was looking at Tivon. “Come and see.”

“At least now we know where she got the inspiration for that weird hairdo.”, Rox grumbled and then took a sharp breath and sneezed.

“What have you got?”, Tivon asked and saw Kas holding out a book to him. He took it diligently. _The Nature of Dragons by Ogden Stonehealer,_ he read and let it flop open in the palm of his hand.

' _Or, should I say the "Dragons of Nature"? Yes. Dragons have long been thought to be as much a part of Tyria as the sun, moon, land, and seas. No one, not even the dwarves, know how long they've been here. The jotun and the norn both have lingering stories passed down through the generations about the last rise of the dragons. Most scholars give these tales little credit, unfortunately, as so much time has passed. It was over ten thousand years ago that the dragons last returned to their slumber. The very existence of these tales, however, indicates that the dragons have awakened at least twice in history. Ancient documents, found now in the Durmand Priory's collection, reveal accounts passed down by other races such as the powerful Seers and even the human gods themselves. '_

Tivon closed the book and was met with Kas's curious eyes. “Isn't this fascinating?”, Kas asked and looked pleased with herself. “We hear dragon stories all our lives, but they're usually fairy tales or stories intended to keep young children from misbehaving. I never thought of them as part of nature. If this is any indication, Scarlet's research into the dragons started early. I wonder what it was that attracted her to studying them?”

“Their power, perhaps.”, Tivon mused. “It seems to be a theme with her.”

“Yes, you're probably right. But she wanted knowledge too. Answers to life's biggest questions. She seems to have recognized early on that the dragons were part of something...more.”

“Something universal. Yes.”, Tivon agreed, and Kas beamed at him.

“She must have been young when she was here. It looks like she was still a student.”, Kas said when she gazed around once more.

“I will have a more distinct conclusion later.”, Taimi chirped. “But my preliminary assessment is that, yes, we're seeing remnants of her early years.”

“Look at this.”, Jory said and pointed toward a small self-drawn map that hung on the wall. “How long ago would you say Scarlet was here? It looks like she was already studying ley lines.”

“Not surprising.”, Taimi shrugged, and Tivon found it astounding that she seemed quite focussed on the parchment which she was inspecting and reading _and_ listening to the conversation. “She was well ahead of her peers. We asura have been studying them for decades.”

“But you didn't know much about them.”, Rox put in.

“They are...elusive.”, Taimi conceded.

There was another short pause, every member lurking in another corner of the room, and it was when Jory said, “Is this what I think it is? It looks like ley lines. What do you think?”, that Tivon moved toward her, nimbly avoiding a pair of boxes that crammed the place. She was looking at another drawing, and when Tivon inspected it he saw it was hand-drawn, and more symbolic than literal. It showed the world as a machine with various moving parts, the Pale Tree sitting at its heart.

Something tugged in his chest. The Pale Tree, his kin, the connection...severed. Disrupted. However far away he felt, however hard he had dug in the line to cut himself off, he _missed_ the feeling of belonging with the other sylvari. Seeing the image of the Pale Tree so very clearly at the center brought him back to when he had begged the Pale Mother to let him go, and how she had agreed, with tears and good-will.

He'd never have that again. Never again.

“Though crude, it's strangely beautiful, don't you agree? Do you think Scarlet made it?”, Jory asked and brought him from his reverie.

“Maybe.”, Tivon said. “It looks like it represents Tyria.”

“Tyria, if you're a sylvari. The Pale Tree is at the center. Didn't I hear that Scarlet strangled the Pale Tree in some vision she had?”

“All sylvari have the Pale Tree at the center of their lives.”, Tivon murmured, the pain in his chest a dull ache, but it was there, an astronomical force and pull that wanted nothing more than to feel the Pale Mother's presence again, to drink in her voice and whispers and her warmth over the Dream.

“Do you think it means anything?”, Jory frowned. “How powerful is the Pale Tree?”

“More powerful that we will ever know, I suspect.”, Tivon answered evasively. The Pale Mother had rescued him from his torment, had given him strength enough to choose this path so that he may protect her. “She is our mother.”, he finished solemnly, and Jory must have seen the flicker of emotions in his eyes because she didn't press further.

There was another sneeze from Rox behind them.

“Do you think she was evil back then?”, Braham wondered aloud.

“She was misunderstood.”, Taimi answered.

Rox snorted. “She had to have always been evil. You don't suddenly turn evil overnight.”

Tivon wanted to correct Rox, tell her that no sylvari _awakened_ evil, that whatever had turned and twisted Scarlets mind, it must have been that strange machine she had went into, but he never got to.

“What about the Branded?”, Taimi asked sharply. “They did. They got corrupted.”

“Hmph.”, Rox made. “Good point.”

Taimi almost instantly forgot the argument.“Ooh ooh ooh! It's a steam minotaur! Eee!” The last note was high-pitched, scratching and ringing in Tivon's ears.

“Ow! Do you mind?”, Rox snarled.

“Inside voice, please, Taimi.”, Kas chuckled and returned to reading the book that lay splayed over her fingers.

“Taimi, you sound like a harpy.”, Braham teased.

“Yeah, but did you see?”, Taimi asked gleefully.

“I see.”, Braham dead-panned, eyes fixed on a bookshelf.

“You're not even looking.”, Taimi pouted.

“No one's ever going to be able to decipher Scarlet's chicken-scratchings.”, Rox grumbled. “What is all this asuran googly-mook, anyway? These symbols and things make me nervous.”

Taimi glanced her way for a moment. “Those are alchemagical symbols. I'm not exactly sure what they mean either, but I'll figure it out—with time.”

Tivon picked up a book that was hidden beneath a pile of parchment and opened the leather band, noticed how old and worn it was and that the pen ship inside was of Scarlet's hand.

_'Dear diary. Writing longhand is for the birds. I've discovered a device of asuran origin that will allow me to record my journal from this point forward. Do not think that I am ungrateful to you. But, I must continue to evolve at every moment. The future awaits us all, and I plan to be amazing when it comes. This will be my last entry as an ink-splattering student. Starting tomorrow, I am a researcher, an engineer, and a visionary. I confess to a mixture of fear and excitement. I believe I've found one of these mythical ley lines, and if I can study it, well...my understanding of Tyria's inner working will increase in leaps and bounds! Who knows what the future will hold?'_

It was almost as if the person that had written this was someone else. If his emotions were not drowned, he might have felt pity., but all that Scarlet had done was brought back, the chaos she had wrought, the many lives she had taken, the constructions and the alliances that had terrorized Tyria, and amidst it all, Tivon and Derwen somehow had their place...and then again not.

Sometimes, Tivon wondered if Derwen had been in league with Scarlet. If the fact that he was on the _Breachmaker_ meant that he had been working with her. If he had been the Mesmer to put up the illusion around the Tower of Nightmares, if perhaps through him, she had managed to steal so many blueprints from Fort Trinity, if with his ability, making Nightmare Court ally with the Krait had been easier.

Tivon shook the thoughts away. Even if that were the case, all he felt was a yearning to see the sylvari again, and even if Derwen had aided Scarlet, even if he had helped her kill all those innocents...Tivon felt no hatred.

_Whatever secret it was, whatever things the sylvari carried – Tivon would wait, patiently and lovingly, because what was love if not unconditional?_

He sighed, fighting off the dull ache in his chest and the slight pulse of a headache.

“I've never been very magic minded, and both Omadd and Scarlet were crazy. To think that you could see the whole world in one moment. It's ridiculous.”, Rox said with a shake of her head.

“The mind is a powerful tool.”, Tivon murmured, grateful to bring his thoughts back on track.

“Yeah, and some people don't use theirs enough. Wishful thinking won't get you to the through.”

He nodded soberly. “True.”

“I think it's time to go. We've got more important things to do.”, Braham said and rolled his shoulders.

“You do, maybe, but I don't.”, Taimi was quick to put in. “This is the biggest day of my life! Look at all this Scarlet paraphernalia!”

“I agree with Braham.”, Rox shrugged and was already making her way toward the door.

“You would.”, Taimi dead-panned. “Look, you guys can go, but I'm not leaving. I need to document all this. I can use this to write the thesis that will make me famous.”

“Hm. I don't know.”, Braham frowned.

“She'll be okay. She's in a village. She's got her golem.”, Jory soothed the norn.

“I guess it'll be okay.”, Braham gave in. “We'll be back for you later, Squeak. If you run into any trouble, find a Zephyrite. They can be trusted.”

“I will.”, Taimi promised. “Now stop worrying and let me get to work.”

“Let's get out of here, Braham. Between the dust and the weirdness, I'm done.”, Rox grumbled once again, and another sneeze broke free from her.

“You be careful, kid. We'll be back later.”, Braham called over his shoulder.

“Taimi, stay out of trouble. We'll be back soon.”, Kas assured the small asura girl as well, and then they all emerged from the room, except for Tivon who tilted his head curiously at Taimi when she called out to him.

“Tiv, hang on a second.”, she said and held out a parchment toward him. He had to bow down to grasp it. “There's mention here of a miner who found the ley line hub that Scarlet was looking for. I wonder if she's still here. Maybe you could go see? She's a norn named Toska.”

“What are you going to do?”, Tivon asked.

“I'm staying here. Do you realize the historical significance of this find? Not to mention the salvage rights. I'll be writing papers, treatises, and dissertations on this until I'm eighty!”

He blinked at that. “I don't get the thrill.”, he admitted flatly.

“Well, no.”, she laughed. “Of course, you wouldn't. Being...you. But, for an asura, this is the find of a lifetime. I was fated to be the one who discovered it.”

“You were fated?”, Tivon echoed.

“Yes. I knew from the first moment I heard about her that Scarlet's fate and mine were intertwined. And now, I shall be her biographer. I only wish I'd had a chance to speak with her.”

“All I ask is that you handle it with a gentle heart.”

“Whatever does that mean?”, she frowned at him as if he was an idiot. “My heart has nothing to do with it. I will apply my mind.”

She'd make an excellent soundless, if not for her sudden burst of energy connected to this discovery. “I mean be sympathetic. She was a person, like you.”

“No.”, Taimi corrected. “She was a person like _you_. If she had been born asura, with a strong asuran mind, she may not have fallen into madness. But she was sylvari, and therefore...prone to listening to her heart.”

There was a small pause and when he didn't answer for a few, awkward seconds, Taimi looked almost bashful and ready to apologize, but Tivon straightened and nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps you are right.”, he murmured, and he couldn't decipher the look on her face. He would have expected her to look smug at being correct, but she looked almost...rueful.

Sometimes she was just a little girl after all.

“I didn't mean...”, she sighed and turned her head away. “There's much to do.”

“I am not offended.” Tivon told her, and she somehow managed to look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. She tried to hide it, and succeeded only after a couple of seconds of shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Good.”, she retorted. “Now shoo, you are cramming my intellect.” Her tone was teasing and Tivon gave a noise of consent that sounded like a chuckle rumbling from his chest and ducked out of the entrance and stepped toward the others that were discussing their findings.

“Taimi told me to talk to Toska, a miner.”, Tivon said as he brushed past and was met with a curious glance from his friends. They fell in behind them.

“Why?”, Kasmeer wanted to know.

“Apparently she is the miner that found what Scarlet was looking for. Taimi thought it worth questioning her.”

The mines were cold and rather uninviting, and only torchlight illuminated the surface of the jagged stone that surrounded them like a cave. Finding the woman in the darkness was harder than Tivon liked to admit, and it was only from the help of Kota that they found the woman standing in a corner, and she blinked and held up her hand to shield her eyes from the torchlight.

“You lost?”, she asked sharply and blinked against the brightness.

“No, I have questions about the ley line hub.”

She mustered him for a moment. “That's what that strange sylvari female called the pocket of magical energy I tapped when I was digging out in the wastes beyond town. You don't want to go anywhere near that.”

“I'd still like to know the story.”, Tivon coaxed.

The woman gave in. “I was mining copper and broke through into an inner chamber in the rock. Suddenly a bright light blinded us all. We didn't go any deeper—too dangerous—but changed the direction of our digging.”

“You told the sylvari woman about this?”

“Yes, and you should have seen her light up. It was as if I was Tixx and Toxx, delivering a special toy just for her.”

“Where was this pocket of magical energy?”, Tivon continued to ask.

“Out west of town, but that tunnel caved in just after I told the sylvari what we'd found. I always suspected she'd collapsed it and dug her own way in. You should find her and ask about it.”

“She's dead.”, Tivon said, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. When Toska raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth to ask, he said, “Thank you for your help.” and turned, and was glad the woman did not attempt to stop him.

“So...we're going to look for it?”, Kas said, and she sounded excited.

“Of course.”, Tivon nodded, but before any of them could make a move there was a rumbling in the earth, and Tivon felt the ground beneath his feet shake and tremble.

He rushed out of the cave and saw tendrils drawing out from the ground, bursting through the parched earth and leaving fractured ground in their wake, and the few inhabitants began to scream and run around wildly, seeking to escape the sudden assault.

“Taimi!”, Braham yelled and made his way forward through the mess, ignoring the tendrils that swiped at his feet.

“Braham!”, Tivon called and rushed after the norn without second thought, felt the soft tug of something on his arm and knew Kas had tried to hold him back, but he has brushed her off in his sudden movement, his name yelled from her lips behind him, lost in the chaos around them. He jumped over a swiping tendril, ducked beneath a vine that shot out over his head and nearly ran into the woman at the well.

With a quick twist of his staff he controlled the vine closest to her, making it wither away and dry into a parched string of fibres and the woman looked up, her body crouched down closely to the round base of the well, and her eyes were large with fear. Without losing another word she rushed past him, out into the open toward a more safe area, and Tivon could see Braham's massive form in between a bunch of vines that attempted to curl around the norn.

Braham's large hands took the vines and tore them away from his feet and with a frustrated growl he erected his shield and a burst of magic came forth, projecting a protective, blue-glowing corona around him that pushed the tendrils away, smacking them aside.

Tivon rushed beneath the dome of protective guardian magic, felt it invigorating and pulsing on his bark with a soft hum, and Braham cast him a glance over his broad shoulder, mace and shield raised in the air still. “You OK?”, Braham asked, even though Tivon knew the norn was more concerned for Taimi at this moment. She was right behind the wall of vines that stood in their way.

Tivon nodded. “I can force them back.”, he said confidently. “Can you shield me?”

“Pah.”, Braham made and turned away, eyeing the tendrils and vines that curled into a ball of unpenetrable twists and knots. “As if you need to ask.”

Tivon spun the staff with one hand, let the butt of it hit the floor and poured what he had into the weapon, his medium, and saw that the ground fractured and rippled like ruptures where the staff met the ground. With a twist of his free arm he lifted it over his head, closed his fist tightly and then, agonizingly slow and with effort he pulled it down.

It was as if a force pulled his arm upward again, refusing him to push the vines back underground. His fingers paled around the shaft of his staff and he stared ahead, not seeing at all, but focussing on that energy and nature magic inside and closed his eyes.

The pulse of that foreign magic that had noting to do with nature was there again, vast and powerful, pressuring him and pushing him back, and he fought against it tightly, could feel the activity of the vines decreasing as they fought the force of his magic.

No. not they.

It was something else.

Something large, resting so far beneath the earth it felt like the very root of Tyria itself, and Tivon felt it striking back at him, only ever so lightly as if _playing_ with him, and he blinked in confusion when he heard the faintest of voices, a dark, foreboding feeling settling in his chest.

 _Mine, mine, mine._ , the voice said, and Tivon struggled to fight against it. It was as if a large fist strangled his throat, curled around his neck, clenching and crushing his air-pipe. He could not breathe, couldn't speak, he tried to force in air, his arm quivering at the force he had to call to fight against this.

This.

It.

 _I am all._ , the voice echoed in the far back of his mind. _Become part of me...or fall into oblivion._

Tivon felt a deep, stark terror taking root in his chest. _“Who are you?”_ , he asked into the darkness, and the force answered back.

_I am Mordremoth._

Mordremoth. Elder Dragon. That was the Elder Dragon's name.

Fear coiled in Tivon's belly, spreading through his limps like ice coating over a frozen lake. He was speaking to a dragon in his mind, no, _through_ his mind, as if his mind was a mouth to speak with, as if his mind was answer and question alike.

With a deep breath he gathered his strength and he conjured the words with a force he'd never used before, almost branding them upon his mind.

“ _Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter.”_

_Mine, mine, mine -_

“ _Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter.”,_ he chanted, fighting, his voice growing louder in his mind.

_Mine, you are -_

“ _Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter.”,_ he very nearly drowned the sound of everything else with his focus, the words echoing in his mind, rattling through him as if a force shook him from the inside.

With a slap he was back in reality and everything flooded him, the ground very nearly tearing from beneath his feet and he gasped and fell down to one knee, his hand bracing against the ground to keep him from falling over, the other hand clutching his staff. The force lifted and Tivon could breathe freely again.

He gulped and fought the nausea, the _anxiety_ , the sheer _terror_ that festered into him. With a drag full of air he managed to lift his head and noticed that the vines and tendrils had either disappeared or stopped moving, slowly wilting and withering away, the magic that had once sustained them cut off and gone.

There was a rumble of defiance from the earth, one Tivon could hear so clearly he felt no satisfaction at his victory. Only alarm at the enemy he had discovered, an enemy that had somehow been in _his mind_.

It was a most terrifying thing, because his thoughts, his mind...it was the only fortification Tivon knew against the outside world, the fortification against everything from the inside of him. It was all that stood between him and everything _else_ , and now, that had somehow been invaded.

 _My guard was down,_ Tivon told himself and gulped, bringing up a barrier in his mind with a strong force of will. _That will not happen again._

He could see the others approaching from the distance and stood, relying more on the staff than he'd like, and tried to cover the weak state of his body when he erected himself to full height, masquerading his face. He turned around when he heard Braham yell, the norn's broad arms tearing through the now brittle and dry wall of vines covering the passage toward the small building. “Taimi? Taimi! Are you here?”

When there was no answer Braham cursed and with a rash movement of his arm managed to break through a thick vine, a large thorn leaving a large scratch upon his arm that begun to bleed not a second after, but Braham didn't care.

“Taimi?!”, he yelled once more, and then, blinking through the thick tangle of vines inside the small room that lay hidden in shadows, they could make out Scruffy.

“I'm here. I'm okay. Scruffy protected me. Are you all okay?”, Taimi asked from within, sheltered and unharmed, her voice slightly distorted.

“Oh. Phew.”, Braham made and Tivon watched the trickle of blood drag along Braham's skin.”Yeah, we're okay too.” Tivon stood beside him and lifted his hand gently toward Braham's arm. The norn startled and looked down at him, then at the wound. There was a short moment of confusion before the norn grinned sheepishly and shrugged, and Tivon rolled his eyes.

“Everything started to shake.”, Taimi explained. “I barely had time to get into Scruffy.”

Behind them, the others arrived. “Is she okay, Braham?”, Rox asked, eyeing the vine prison Taimi found herself in.

“Yeah, she's okay. She hid in her golem.”, Braham explained as he began tearing the rest of the vines away, much more easily now that they offered no resistance and almost crumbled to the touch.

“I didn't hide.”, Taimi protested with a pout. “I was collecting important data.”

“Uh-huh.”, Braham made, ripping a large vine from the ground, root and all and tossing it aside with a wide swing of his arm. Tivon angled his body lightly to the side, avoiding the whip of the vine barely.

“Did I hear you say Taimi's okay?”, Kas asked when she arrived behind Rox, and Tivon could see from the wear and sweat drops upon her face that they must have fought their way through.

“I'm fiiine.” Taimi stretched the word in annoyance. “Golly.”

“What's happening?”, Jory asked, and somehow her eyes turned toward Tivon for an answer.

“Mordremoth did this.”, Tivon answered somberly, and received a startled reaction from all around.

“M-M-M-Mordremoth?”, Kas stuttered, and a hiccup followed not soon after.

“Raises the stakes to a whole new level of awful, doesn't it?”, Jory murmured bitterly.

“Gods, we need a plan. You really think all these vines are related to Mordremoth? All these deaths?”, Kas seemed eager to be proven wrong, but with that voice still heavy on his mind, Tivon could not deny the truth screaming in his face.

“I'm certain.”

“What are we going to do?”, Kas asked desperately and she started pacing. Jory gave her a glance and stopped her after just a few steps with a hand on the small of her back.

“We start by following Scarlet's trail.”, Tivon said.

There was a moments pause before Kas lifted her gaze from the ground, eyes drawn into a frown. “Aerin said a Tyrian leader would die. It could be anyone, though the biggest threat to Mordremoth is probably Trahearne. I hate the thought that Queen Jennah could be in danger too.”

“For the record, I agree that this is Mordremoth's doing.”, Taimi chirped in, now finally freed. Scruffy made a few thundering steps before coming to halt in the circle they had made. “It all started with Scarlet. We need to understand her. Did you see her voice recorder? Her books and papers?”

“What have you learned here?”, Tivon asked.

“Lots of things! Like, Scarlet started with steam creatures, then graduated to aether and watchwork. She released a bunch of the steam creatures into the wild. Oh, and she killed Omadd.”

“Killed Omadd?”

“He was her last mentor. He experimented on her with his mind-widening device, and that's when she saw the Eternal Alchemy, or what she thought was it. She killed him because once he realized his device worked, he started looking at her like she was a lab rat—not like an assistant or student. He was going to experiment more on her.”

“I see.”, Tivon frowned and added, a bit hesitantly, “But surely Omadd wouldn't have hurt her?”

Taimi looked a bit rueful at that. “Historically speaking, previous generations of asura—including Omadd's—viewed the sylvari as an anomaly to be studied. When the first sylvari arrived, many were...victimized in the interest of arcane knowledge.”

Tivon remembered Malomedis and the story the firstborn had told him; a story about a time where the firstborn had been experimented on and damaged to such an extent he had repaired with blemishes, forever to be changed. Yet, the firstborn had grown from that experience, and Tivon could only hope to take a leaf from the firstborn's book.

He decided not to dwell on this fact; it was known to him, it was history, but he had nothing of worth to say in the light of it. “Do you have any new insight into that drawing on the wall?”, he asked instead, and Taimi deflated, her shoulders falling in, and he realized she had been tense due to the fact that he was sylvari – and that she was glad to avoid such a sensitive topic as their race's very first encounter.

“Actually, I do. Based on Scarlet's writings and her holographic recorder over there, I've come up with a theory. I think that's the representation of her vision. Her mentor Omadd made a device that opened the mind. When she tried it, she had a vision. At the center is a symbol I've seen used to represent the Pale Tree.”

“And you think she drew that drawing after it?”, Tivon concluded.

“Yes. She claimed that she had seen the Eternal Alchemy during the vision. The symmetrical elements in the drawing and the Pale Tree at the center lead me to that conclusion.”

“Why the Pale Tree?”

“In her vision, she saw the Pale Tree attacked by a thorn vine. She described it as doing terrible damage to the Pale Tree.”, Taimi explained, and she paused for a short moment. When Tivon frowned at her she slowly added, “It...pleased her. She even grew some thorny vines to strangle Omadd. The parallel with the vines from her vision is not lost on me.”

Tivon nodded slowly, comprehending. “What about ley lines?”

“The most interesting thing of all!”, Taimi cheered and only calmed slightly when Kas gave her a sharp look, her screechy voice quieting down. “Scarlet theorized that our waypoint positioning coincides with the locations of the most powerful ley lines.”

“Was she right?”, Tivon asked.

“Likely, but not yet confirmed. I need to do more research. I need to better understand the elements that drew her to that conclusion.”, Taimi answered with a shrug, but she looked smug.

Tivon considered what to say next when the earth beneath his soles began to tremble, ever so slightly, and it turned more and more ferocious with the second. His companions looked around warily, and in slight panic.

“Hold on!”, Braham called, and Tivon could see the norn lift his shield in order to cast another corona around them.

“Oh! Oh! Oh my!”, Kas said, clutching at Jory's shoulders, her eyes scanning over the place, and then, as sudden as it had come, the earthquake ceased. There was the clatter of the shelves, the rustling of paper, and then Tivon heard the clatter of wood stacking upon the ground in a heap and stone crumbling away. “What's happening?”, Kas breathed.

Rox was stalking toward the far end of the room, bow drawn in her hand, her shoulders and body hunched forward slightly in a cautious advance. “Hey. Come look at this.”, she said and beckoned them from over her shoulder. “There's a passage behind this bookshelf.”

“What?”, Taimi was excited when Scruff made an attempt to push past Braham. “Get out of my way! Let me see!”

Needless to say, Braham's arm still managged to hold her back. “Settle down.”, Braham issued. “ Let the boss go in first.”

There was a moments pause where Tivon looked at Rox, and noticed that she was looking at him. As a matter of fact, they all did. Realization hit him a bit late, but when it did, he blinked up at Braham. The norn grinned.

“All right, but hurry up.”, Taimi yielded before Tivon could utter a word.

Tivon lead the way and ducked his head low through the passage, minding the windings and branches of his staff as he entered the tunnel. The tunnel was dug into the ground, as if made from the very hands of a pickaxe. He could imagine Scarlet, young and eager and still _Ceara_ punching her way through this in eager pursuit of knowledge.

“C'mon, Frostbite. Let's go.”, Rox said and Tivon heard the clatter of Kota's feet coming after them as well, and only glanced over his shoulder to confirm his suspicion that Kota and Frostbite had become somewhat inseparable.

The ground became more and more even, even having the resemblance of a staircase, and once again Tivon was met with a most chaotic view on papers, shelves filled with books, work spaces and benches as well as tables that were all filled with something.

Metallic appendices, engineer's gear, screws and books that lay open, pages torn and scribbled upon by a hasty, angled hand. He took one piece of paper that lay upon the stair and lifted it up into the dim light.

_Letters sent home from soldiers in the Kournan army have given us great insight into their lives. In the eleventh century A.E., their leader Varesh Ossa inspired great loyalty. In one particular speech, Ossa praised her military and encouraged them to use their persuasive abilities to build the power of Kourna from the inside. She said, "If properly convinced, you can get whole groups of lesser creatures to work toward your goals without them realizing they're not working for themselves." Ossa cites the alliance between centaurs Kournan craftspeople as an example. Together, they produced better armor and weapons, and they provided for the Kournan people's day-to-day needs._

Taimi eagerly grabbed the note from his fingers when he passed it around, but found no use in it. They spread out, investigating all that they found, and Tivon's eyes caught on a notebook that was neatly folded and closed still. He opened it with long, careful fingers as if afraid to stir some brittle part of the past, and began to read.

_"A History of Dry Top" by Nicholas Standford, 1070 A.E._

_Now a barren landscape, this rounded basin may have held water many millennia ago. Sand now covers everything, blowing on the wind and eroding all—rocks and inhabitants alike. Unknown sentient beings once built fragile hillside homes high on the cliffsides. Some structures still linger but will also fall victim to the blowing sand and hot sun. The area attracts outlaws on the run with something to hide. Or those who are unwelcome among civilized folk for one reason or another. This makes the area dangerous to travelers such as me and[Y](https://wiki.guildwars.com/wiki/Professor_Yakkington)akkington. Migrating centaur packs come through here, it seems. There is evidence that they once had a refuge here. A large tree trunk, quite out of place, could have been one of their sacred trees. Despite appearances, this waterless area is far from lifeless, and it serves as the doorway into the Maguuma Jungle, a region of uncontrollable growth, life, and often death. _

He put the book aside. This wasn't helping him learn anything about what Scarlet had found here. Nothing of the ley-line the miner Toska had tapped, nothing at all about what she had done about it.

The others were rather quiet while sifting through books, papers and lifting up material, inspecting them closely, and he approached the closest table and placed the notebook down, picking up another book that already lay opened before him. He wondered if they would even manage to read through all this in one day, let alone a lifetime.

On the open page of this book, Scarlet had drawn a route leading up and out of her tunnel to a higher region of Dry top. Tivon frowned and followed the line of the map with his finger, assuring himsself of his find, and memorizing it. The points on Scarlet's map traced a path winding across the higher region of Dry Top to some unknown destination, where she had drew crisscrossing lightning bolts.

When Tivon lifted his eyes he noticed Taimi was staring at him intently. “Did you find something? You found something, didn't you?” He almost wanted to chuckle. She was so much like a dog, afraid the owner would leave without it.

He showed it to her, and didn't bother holding on longer than necessary when she almost ripped the map from his fingers, her smart, wide, round eyes scanning over the map.

“Scarlet left a map showing that she headed someplace to the southwest.”, Tivon told her, and Taimi nodded in agreement.

“I bet it leads to the ley line she discovered.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Then we have a destination.”, Kas grinned, having discarded the parchment she had plucked from the wall. It fluttered softly onto a worktable.

Tivon nodded. “Let's get going. And Taimi?”

The asura startled and looked up at him with guilty eyes.

“Don't try to take everything, it will only slow us down.”

The small asura sighed and began to rummage through her backpack, unpacking a bunch of things – pipes, holograms, other devices Tivon didn't bother to recognize – under a rumbling breath. “There.”, she said. “Happy?”

Braham chuckled beside him and Tivon settled for a smile before he took the map once again and lead them through the tunnels toward the new destination.

 


	23. Discovering Scarlet's Breakthrough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, whew, I have done it. Another chapter in the mix! Whoop. Progress with the story is only slow, especially because these chapters are filled with the whole "Mordremoth is the bad guy, let's show everyone just how much of an a** he is". At least the next two chapters feel that way.  
> Whelp. Enjoy anyways.

The passage that lead them southwest brought them through passages that were meant for none larger than Scarlet had been, and Tivon had to soothe Braham on multiple occasions that sylvari simply were slim and that it was nothing against big and broad-shouldered norn at all.

The sand was blowing softly, but Tivon could feel the arid and hot air making his bark dry. He had a feeling that a sand-storm was coming, and the fact that he could see the grey spots in the distance only gave him more certainty.

He lifted his hand against a harsh blow of sand and felt the grains poke into his eye, and Braham sputtered behind him, trying desperately to get rid of the sand that had entered his mouth.

“Spirits, I'll never not feel sand again.”, Braham cursed.

Tivon barely listened. He could feel the churning beneath the earth, vines and branches slithering so far below that the sand under his soles did not even tremble. But he felt it. It was a resonance within him, one that rattled through his body as if shacking him awake, and there, beneath the tuft of branches and vines and coppice, he could feel that presence lurking and waiting...predatory. Waiting for an opportunity to strike.

It was chilling, to know something lurked at the edges of his consciousness, waiting for him to slip. Just the once.

“Over here.”, Tivon said against the growing wind. The sand was gushing over them now, forcing them to hunch forward and lift their arms protectively over their faces and eyes. Thankfully a small crevice lay ahead, a slope that brought them beneath the surface and shelter of stone.

They all breathed a sigh of relief, clapping along their clothing and letting the sand settle on the ground from their robes before they continued. Onwards lay a large, metallic door with only one panel, and Taimi was already on it before either of them had a chance to inspect it.

Oddly enough, the doors were open.

Inside lay a cave, and from inside Tivon could feel the thrum and brimming of magic that flooded through the stone. The cave was illuminated in a blue light that reached even toward the door, and arrays of stone that looked like corals were whorled with blue lines of fluctuating and floating energy that swirled through its interior, losing themselves around the bend and out of sight.

“This place is amazing.”, Kasmeer breathed in awe, her eyes gliding over the many coral-shaped stones in the distance.

“And brimming with bad guys. The Inquest are here.”, Jory grumbled and was already reaching for her axe. She spoke truth; ahead was a group of Inquest who had been alerted by their intrusion, rushing up the stone ramp toward them.

“We know how to deal with Inquest. Let's clear this place out.”, Rox shrugged.

“Wait, Rox. Let's be smart.”, Taimi interjected, and Tivon thought he imagined it, but she gave a sheepish grin. “Scarlet will have left security devices in place. They're currently off-line, but if I can reactivate them, we can use them to our advantage.”

“Awww. Can't we just get rid of them the good ol' fashioned way?”, Braham pouted, and he too had already grabbed his mace and shield.

“You could, but they'd be back before you know it. Scarlet's security can protect this area from future attacks. Clear the way to the first console for me.”

The group that approached them didn't get to give them empty threats. They were cleared as fast as they had come, and Taimi was already pacing away toward the console, her eyes sparkling as they glanced over the panel.

Tivon let his eyes wander. The ley lines hovered in the air above their heads, blue, majestic lines that wove and spiralled around one another, softly waving and oscillating. This was the magic of the world, the magic of Tyria itself, that which the Elder Dragon's sought to consume after they awakened from their slumber.

Braham rolled his shoulders, his eyes wandering warily over the cave. “Every time I fight Inquest, I think about ending up in a cage while they experiment on me. It's my worst nightmare. I'd rather be dead.” Tivon glanced at him, and Braham met his eyes. “Taimi told me that Inquest did horrible experiments on sylvari when they first arrived. They treated them like animals.”

Tivon's connection to the dream was no more, yet the memory of the encounter between sylvari and asura lingered in his mind. “The Inquest weren't the only ones.”, he conceded evenly.

“I wasn't born yet when they first arrived, so they've just always been around me. I can't imagine how strange it must be for people who remember a time before sylvari.”

“I know what you mean.”, Tivon murmured and turned his gaze away.

“I'm ready to distract them with illusions if you need it.”, Kas offered to Taimi, and the small asura gave a small nod that she had heard, but her eyes never left the console. “These Inquest are like rats in suits. They never come only one or two at a time. They attack in swarms.”, Kas continued, and she didn't even seem to notice that Taimi was barely listening.

“This place thrums with magical energy. Can you feel it?”, Jory stepped beside Tivon. “It has a stomach-churning depth to it. It's ancient.”

“I feel it.”, Tivon said slowly. Beside the energy however he felt a gnawing hunger from beneath the earth, clutching claws that ached to reach out and consume. It was a cold chill that went through him, even though there was not even a single breeze.

“Don't get caught in their cross fire. Inquest weaponry can be nasty.”, Taimi warned them.

“I thought this place was sealed up?”, Kas asked.

“It was.”, Taimi shrugged. “But if the Inquest are good at anything, it's finding hidden labs and raiding them.” There were a few more seconds where her fingers almost flew infinitely fast over the small keyboard of the panel, and then she began to grin. “Overriding access. Enabling manual controls on the...ooh, zap weapons. Nice.” Another small pause, a few taps, then, “Okay. It's all yours. Use the console to fry some Inquest.”

“It isn't going to blow up in our faces, is it?”, Braham asked suspiciously.

“Don't be silly.”, Taimi beamed. “The chances are so slim as to be negligible. About...oh, fifty-three percent.” She did not give them any time to protest that fifty-three was not slim at all. “I've tagged us all nonhostile.”

“All right! Let's zap some Inquest then.”, Braham said, and it seemed that he did not understand that they might get fried very soon. The norn chewed on his tongue as he made for the console and then began smashing the designated button Taimi showed him.

Within an instant, the device seemed to send an electric charge, there was a loud zap that thrummed through the ground and a device located just below the cliff in front of them began to align itself with a group of inquest that lingered at the far end of a small stream that went like a glittering silver lining through the whole cavern. There was a low buzz that began to turn louder and louder until a beam of light emitted from the device, shooting out toward the Inquest. There was a blast, a large ray of light that made them shield their eyes and then the sound as if a meteor struck, scorching the earth where the device had pointed.

Dust whirled up, scattering into the air and rocks fractured under the beam, and once the veil had lifted, the group of inquest were no more. Tivon could not even see any remains.

“You got them all!”, Taimi cheered. “Well, the ones we could see, at least. There's another console ahead. We'll have to activate it as well. Let's go.”

“You're enjoying yourself, aren't you, Taimi?”, Jory smiled knowingly.

“Using Scarlet's brilliant devices—even her earliest designs—to neutralize Inquest? How could I not have fun?”, Taimi grinned at her.

They moved toward another console, and their steps seemed to echo deafeningly loud in the vastness of the cave. Left and right the walls rounded over them, the ley line dancing over their heads.

“Hm, This one is a little more complicated. Nothing I can't handle, though.”, Taimi went to work without further ado, and they all stood guard, but the Inquest had either been killed – or must have most likely seen what had happened to the others. “Is it my birthday? This one interfaces with one of her steam creatures.”

There was the clanking of metal, an aching sound and then a pile of scrap metal Tivon saw in the distance on the other side of the stream came to life, erecting itself slowly. It began to patrol the area, and Taimi looked smug and satisfied.

“I gotta say, that look suits you.”, Rox chimed in.

“No time to dawdle.”, Taimi said, but there was a fond note in her tone. Was it humility, or was she shy? “As far as I can tell, there's one more console up ahead. Get me to it, and we'll be golden.”

The last console seemed little of a problem to her.

“Last one and done! This will activate Scarlet's holographic defenses. Once they're fired up, they'll kill everything in here.”

“You do realize that we fall in the category of "everything," right?”; Jory raised her eyebrow.

“Don't worry. I'm confident I can configure the system to identify our silhouettes as allies. Hold on. Activating the defenses.”

“You're absolutely sure this won't kill us?”, Jory interjected.

“Absolutely. I'd give it a solid fifty-three percent chance.”, Taimi chirped.

“I beg your pardon?”, Jory said and stepped forward, “Maybe you shouldn't—“

She didn't get to stop Taimi. There was a humming in the air, much like on the first console, and sparkles of light crashed over the surface of the stream, glittering white and silver, and then, suddenly, everything went quiet and still, the air filled with a soft, vibrating buzz and a blue corona drifting and waving through the cave.

“It's...beautiful.”, Kas murmured in awe.

“And we're still alive. That's a plus.”, Jory said, forever the pragmatist.

“Of course we're still alive.”, Taimi pouted, affronted that Jory had doubted her. “I was joking about fifty-three percent. It was more like seventy-eight.”

“Wonderful.”, Rox said drily. “Looks like we're going to be the only ones walking around in here for some time.”

“You did great, Taimi.”, Braham told her.

“I know.”, Taimi replied smugly, but Tivon could see the fond smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“What is this place?”, Kas asked, her neck craned and her eyes following the corona and the leylines.

“It's a cave.”, Taimi dead-panned, and she was looking at Kas as if the human was asking the most inane thing she had heard.

“You know what I mean.”, Kas said with a chuckle.

“Well, everything points to it being a ley line hub. And, before you ask, it's where multiple ley lines intersect. Scarlet thought it important enough to set up a lab here.”, Taimi explained and was climbing back up toward Scruffy, waving Braham's hand that attempted to help her away.

“The plant dragon's corruption has found its way in.”, Jory noticed, and in between the cracks of the cave at the sides Tivon could see it too. See it, and most unnervingly, feel it.

“Yes, it's troubling, but it makes sense given how the dragons consume magic. They're undoubtedly attracted to ley lines like spiders are attracted to flies caught in their webs.”

“That doesn't bode well for waypoints.”, Jory murmured.

“No, I'm afraid not.”, Taimi conceded and the lid on Scruffy's visior snapped shut after she settled in her seat.

“There has to be something we can do about it.”, Rox frowned.

“I'm working on a solution.”, Taimi told them and Scruffy slowly rose to his feet from where he had crouched in an idle state. “I've tapped into the asuran waypoint network to see which waypoints are being disturbed. It's far more widespread than I imagined.”

“How widespread?”, Braham asked.

“Well, for example, the waypoints at Fort Concordia and at Fort Salma are behaving irregularly. If it's the dragon's tendrils—and I presume it is—then that's quite far afield. There are other waypoints being disturbed, but those two are the most egregious. It's interesting that they're both strongholds.”

“I'd say this requires some direct observation.”, Jory cut in. “I want to see what this is all about with my own two eyes.”

“Why don't we split up?”, Braham offered. “Rox and I can take Concordia. You two head out to Fort Salma and say hello to your sister for us.”

“That's a great idea.”, Kas beamed. “I'd love to spend more time with Belinda. Get to know her better.”

“I don't care if you beg.”, Taimi cut in. “I'm not going to either place. I have to stay here and continue my research. Nothing's changing my mind.”

“No begging here.”, Rox was quick to put in, and Tivon caught the sharp glare Taimi threw her. “C'mon, Braham. Let's go.”

Braham gave Tivon a look. “Where are you heading?”

“Do you need any assistance here Taimi?”, Tivon asked and the small asura snorted in answer, and Tivon took that as a no. “Then I'll head to Fort Salma with Kas and Jory.”

Braham nodded, and Tivon wondered if he had disappointed the norn. If he had, Braham did not show it. “Take care.”

“You too.” Tivon watched as Rox and Braham exited the cave, moving upwards the slope and disappearing out of sight.

“We should get going as well.”, Jory said. “If Mordremoth's influence has reached as far as Fort Salma, we'll have to help.”

Tivon followed them, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that no matter how much they wanted to, they would not be able to save them all.

  
  


 


	24. Trouble at Fort Salma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Thank you for leaving so many comments, they're the light in my dark studying hours (I am no even kidding, I get up at 4o'clock, it's pretty dark I assure you). I promise I will post each weak and prepare chapters before hand, no exams will stop me from that. It's all bout time management. Yup.  
> Anyway, for this chapter: Prepare your tissues. I know Concordia comes first in the story, but it made more sense for me to visit Salma first. It's closer, after all.  
> The story continues!

The warnings they had prepared came too late. The Fort was already partly taken in by Mordremoth's forces, vines and brambles curling around the stone arch's and walls as if they were made from paper, making them crumble and fissure at the pressure.

The path ahead was a steep slope leading upwards surrounded by wooden fences and large field, giving way to the impression of a small farmers village just in front of the Fort that had benefited from its protection – until very recently.

The houses made from stone and mould were burning brightly, straw atop the buildings catching fire easily. Villagers were fleeing down the pathway with screams and terrified faces, looking back with horror and fear in their eyes. The carts and animals were abandoned and across the path Tivon saw many bodies of Seraph guards in their uniform armor, having defended however long they could.

A pair of quaggans stood sheltered in the shadow of a large barn, and Tivon only saw because the bright green one peeked around the corner, only to flinch back at the sight of him. He strode toward the quaggan and saw them quivering in fear, until the other one recognized him.

“What are you doing here?”, Peneloopee asked. She was a quaggan Tivon had met way back at the Dragon Bash festival. “It's dangerous here! Bloomanoo! Quaggans' friend is here.”

“I'm here to help.”, Tivon told her soothingly and crouched lower. Behind him Jory and Kas approached, both looking apprehensively toward the fort that was visible over the straw rooftops.

“Oh, the situation is dire.”, Peneloopee sighed. “You could hide with quaggans, if you want.”

Tivon smiled at the kind offer. “No, but thank you. You two should get out of here.”

“Quaggan knows. Quaggan wants to get out of Kessex Hills and never ever ever come back. But...quaggans have to wait and hope a path clears.”

“You've made quite a trek to get here.”, Tivon noticed. The quaggan had made quite a journey after having lost their homes to both the Karka suddenly appearing in Lion's Arch and then the Krait pushing them from the waters of Kessex Hills.

“Yes. Quaggans are determined to find a warm, watery place to make a pod. Quaggans are tired of the foobull! There must be somewhere safe or all of Tyria is dooOOoomed.”

“Where are you heading?”, Tivon wondered.

“Right now, quaggans just want to get out of Kessex Hills alive.”, Peneloopee said and gave the bright quaggan beside her a glance.

“Do you know what's happening?”, Tivon asked and nodded toward the Fort.

“Quaggan isn't sure, but plants are growing evil. There are many dying inside the fort.”

“Be brave, my friend.”, Tivon encouraged and slowly rose. “Everything will be all right.”

“This...I hadn't expected this.”, Kas murmured as her eyes glanced warily over the burning houses, following the trail of smoke as it drifted upwards.

Ahead was a small ravine covered with a secure stone bridge, and there was the Fort with its gates still holding, but barred. In front of the gate were barricades that had been put up as a defense, but they were abandoned and the only sign of life Tivon could discern was the movement atop the ramparts from Fort Salma's walls where archers aimed down at the creatures that hammered at the gate.

These were creatures Tivon had never seen before. For one, there were the strange wolf-like creatures. They were made from stems and bark and roots, growing together to form the basic form of a wolf body, a large flower adorning the neck, glowing almost brightly orange in warning. Their heads were skulls with empty sockets and large, sharp teeth.

Another one that was made from roots that grew upwards to form the head of a flower with red extended strings and a face made from one large, dark and gaping mouth and one round eye that was blown wide without an eyelid, glowing red in the sunlight. It moved around in twists and turns, leaving behind a trail of poisonous spores that made the air harder to breathe.

Lastly there were the monstrous creatures that looked like large, overgrown trees without any branches and roots; simply a large trunk with two arms and two legs, a head decorated with spines that were windswept over the back of the head. It's mid glowered with magic that permeated its body, and one could easily follow the lines of red flowing beneath the bark as if following its life's blood.

They barely even flinched when Tivon's arrow riddled their thick bark, and only with the help of his Druid powers was he able to sufficiently subdue them. He untangled them from within, dried and parched the vines and branches that kept them together until they were but gnarled, creaky wisps of nature, crumbling into heaps onto the ground.

A female voice shouted from the ramparts, but Tivon could barely make out the face. “Hey! Glad to have a helping hand.”, the woman called gratefully, but she continued without pause. “Part of my squad is pinned down at the bottom of the hill. If you can go get them, I'll open the gate and let you all in at once. We can give you cover from the walls. Hurry, they won't hold out much longer.”

Tivon turned his head to the left and saw a small passage leading just beside the Fort's wall and he rushed past the building, the sound of fighting and screaming already rushing into his ears. He jumped down onto a straw rooftop, glided down and landed in front of a group of Mordrem and Seraph, both too tangled and fighting to notice he was there.

With a raise of his arm and a motion of his staff he summoned vines that shot up from the ground, dashing forward and entwining with both earth and enemy, rooting them in place. Jory's axe send out a blade of shadow like a dark, crescent moon that cut through the enemies cleanly, and only then did the Seraph turn to notice their saviours.

Of the group only three remained standing, the other, a female warrior, was clutching a heavy wound on her belly where the blood dripped from the wound through her fingers, collecting on the ground in a pool of red.

Tivon knelt beside her and she glanced up at him, light already draining from her eyes. He wondered if it was resignation or already death that she was seeing – either way, the hope in her eyes had vanished. Determination snaped into place, and she waved him away with bloody fingers, “Go.”, she croaked and winced, curling in on herself even more, her elbows quivering under her weight. “I won't...”, she began, and the bitterness of her words seemed too much, even for her. “I can't get up.”, she said instead, as if that fact alone was reason enough to strand her in the open.

Tivon ignored her babbling. His palm gently hovered over the wound and he felt the pulse of her heart underneath his fingers even though he didn't touch her skin. He could feel the torn skin and matrices of connective tissue and muscle that was torn and shredded.

In that regard, Tivon thought idly as he began pouring his healing magic into the wound, humans were very much the same as the sylvari. The tissue would tear and ever so slowly, it would grow back together to close over the wound. Only difference was the pale, thinner layer of skin that now slowly began to appear beneath his hand, scar tissue that was the curse of the human body.

The woman was watching, and as the pain eased from her features, her desperation was replaced with hope, bit by bit, until it was a sparkling light of wonder.

When he lifted his hand he grasped underneath her arm and behind her back and pulled her up to her feet, and she made a startled and surprised noise. Her legs quivered slightly and the strain reappeared in her face, pain still rushing through her, but she was brave.

All this, Tivon could see. He could feel it. The rush of her pulse, the erratic beating of her heart at the realisation that she would live, her muscles coming back into action after having resigned their service.

Her arm folded over his shoulder for support and he carefully lead her back toward the gate. Kas and Jory had held the approaching Mordrem forces back with the remaining Seraph, and together they made it to the gate with one more Seraph in tow that would now live to see another day.

The woman atop the walls gave him a grateful nod. “The Seraph are holding the courtyard. Get in here if you want to join them.”

The gate open and Tivon frowned. Whatever the courtyard had once been, he was sure this kind of destruction had been made only recently, most likely under the assault. The stone and ground were carved apart, creating a massive hole in the very middle that emitted a green miasma. Mordrem swarmed from within and vines clawed their way up the earth, sending cascades of stone to drown in the very middle, tearing the Fort apart from within.

The trees stood their ground valiantly, long, large roots edging towards the center of the large cleft, the trunks aching under the effort. The wood creaked and the branches cracked, and slowly the trunk tipped, tipped and fell down with a thundering crash.

Whatever manner of nature Mordremoth managed to manipulate, this...it was no normal nature. It tore Tyria apart, bit by bit. It's earth, it's roots, the trunks of trees and the foundation of growth.

The woman beside him untangled herself from him and he let her go without protest. “I...”, she murmured and only then did he give her a glance. “Thank you.”

“This fight is not over.”, he told her and she nodded, and then she hobbled toward one of the other Seraph who gave her a helping hand.

“Belinda and the Seraph are holding the walls, for now.”, Jory said when she came up behind him. ”There seems to be no end to these attacks.”

“We should take the stragglers that make it past the Seraph.”, Kas suggested, her hands growing pale from her grip around the shaft of her staff “The creatures keep coming—both over and under the walls.”

“Good thinking.”, Jory agreed. “I'm determined to hold out until they stop.”

“Me too.”, Kas nodded toward her with determination. “A Seraph told me they got krait obelisk shards here—from the Tower of Nightmares. They're too valuable to let fall into the wrong hands.”

“Sis!”, Belinda cried from the rampart “The eastern gate is getting hit hard. Can you get over there and reinforce it?”

“You betcha.”, Jory grinned. “We can use the northern wall to get there. Looks safer than trying to plow through the middle.”

“When you get there, bring the siege weapons back up. You'll need their firepower to keep the gate clear.”, Belinda suggested.

Jory nodded and then her eyes met his. ”Lead on. We'll follow.”

He took the path to the left and climbed atop a slab of stone, the houses to the sides tilting toward the large cleft as well. Strong and large, green vines came from beneath the ground, boring underneath the very foundation, making the massive buildings slowly tip.

The houses and buildings were not all that was engulfed in the vines grasps. Some vines were sole, alone, almost, shooting straight up from the ground,scattering earth as they burst from the ground, and they slung and curled around the Seraph's bodies and squeezed them, pressing the air from their lungs, or curling around their throats directly.

Or at least, that was what they must have done, because the Seraph bodies dangled in the air in front of them from the vines, the large shaft of the vines spiralling around them like ivy and there was no longer any sign of life in either. The vines moved slightly as if from taking breaths, but the Seraph no longer moved, and even in passing the vines remained still.

“Gods...”, Kas murmured when her eyes gazed over one of the unfortunate victims and Tivon saw how she tore her eyes away.

They had to climb over the side of the wall, the cleft in the middle having torn the ground completely away and open. He minded his steps carefully and their progress was only slow, but when he finally reached the tilted stairs and climbed onto the rampart he could see the siege weaponry that Belinda had mentioned.

“Um... I don't know how to work an arrow cart.”, Kas murmured quietly behind him.

“You don't?”, Jory asked in surprise.

“I must have skipped out the day we covered siege warfare between my etiquette and dance classes.“, Kas uttered sarcastically.

Tivon manned the siege weapon and fired it, the arrows cascading down in a deadly volley unto the Mordrem bashing at the barricades and the gate. The arrows riddles into bark and branches and for a moment Tivon wondered if perhaps the weapon was ineffective when finally, the Mordrem wore down and succumbed.

Before the gate lay a large heap and pile of gnarled branches and twigs and bark, and they all stood at the edge of the rampart to gaze down below. 

“That did it. The courtyard's secure for now.”, Jory said and sighed. “Seems our luck is holding.”

“Hold on. Do you hear that?”, Kas asked startled and looked toward the outer part of the gates where Tivon not only heard but felt the earth churning. Something was burring its way through. “What is...”

“Hmph.”, Jory made. “Of course they couldn't just let us rest. That sounds big.”

From the path in front of the gate a creature burst from the ground, sending cobblestone and earth scattering across the path. It twisted its way free like a drill and as it rose, a small barrier rose beneath its feet, shielding it away.

It's body was shaped like a lily flower, the petals of a yellow-reddish to brown color and the edges framed with black. In the middle was a round mouth with sharp, pale teeth, and underneath the body, dangling in the wind and hovering just a fee inches off the ground, were long tentacle-like spores the twisted with every movement.

“Oh dear! It's massive! What's our strategy?”, Kas asked.

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”, Jory said. ”I'm guessing if we take out King Monstrosity, the grunts will give up.” Before Tivon could make a move to jump down the rampart, Jory held him back. “Listen. That thing is shielded. We're going to have to coordinate our efforts to bring it down. I can rig my minions to explode on contact. The impact will putrefy its shielding, and that will give you an opportunity to strike.”

“I will provide some cover.”, Kas offered. “And boost you on your way.”

“Alright.”, Tivon nodded and Jory let him go this time. Without further ado he grasped the outer part of the rampart with his hand and jumped down, dangled for just a moment and then let himself drop to the ground. The fall was barely mention-worthy and he strode toward the Mordrem Thrasher, one of Jory's minions rising and coming to life beside him.

The power of necromancy felt...cold. Unnatural, even, and staring at what these monstrosities were only gave way to the impression that such a power was too macabre to even exist. The minion was large, bloated, its flesh swollen to the point where its skin was but a thin, stretched line, bones protruding and nearly piercing through from beneath. Its head was a skull, the sockets of the eyes empty, and it moved on all fours obediently.

A mordrem wolf came to intercept them and Tivon didn't even bother to cast. As the wolf jumped into the air, jaw opened wide and teeth bared, Tivon swung the staff and let it smack into the wolfs side, sending it skittering onto the ground about two meters away. Its branches gnarled and creaked as it landed, and part of its ribcage broke.

A jungle tendril rose from the ground, but all attempt at stealth and covert action was lost. Tivon had felt it long before he had seen it, and when it lashed out at him in an attempt to curl around his ankle he simply stepped away and drew his hand forward, pulling his fingers into a fist.

The vine shook and rattled and dried before his very eyes, slowly ceasing to move until it fell down toward the ground. The Thrasher ahead was spinning wildliy, sending large spores flying into the air that impacted with the ground in a burst of poison, but Kas's purple corona kept the missiles away, shielding him effectively.

Finally the minion was close enough and dashed into the shield, and with a massive burst of force air rushed past him and the shield was no more. The Thrasher came to an abrupt halt and turned toward him, but Tivon was already summoning vines of his own.

One sharp thrust of his hand delivered a piercing vine from the ground that charged straight through the Thrashers mouth, piercing through and protruding from the back of its head. It stilled and floated for just a moment longer before it collapsed.

All other enemies fled as soon as the Thrasher fell, just as Jory had predicted. The creaking of the gate behind Tivon announced that it was safe enough and he met them inside.

“Well done.”, Kas praised, and Tivon gave the praise right back.

“That was some really good work.”, Tivon approved.

“Let's regroup with my sister. She'd love to know her Fort is safe.”, Jory said and went ahead, back the way they had come.

The great ravine tearing through the very middle of the Fort no longer grew, nor was there any miasma coming from the ground. They could wade through without its poisonous effects lingering, shortening their trail back.

Kas was up the ramp, Tivon behind her, and as she went to the right and around the corner, she suddenly stood stock still and gasped. Tivon very nearly ran into her and followed the trail of her eyes...

And Jory did the very same.

A vine, like so many of the others, large and green and adorned with thorns, clung to the body of Belinda. It curled around her body that was upside down, her arms dangling over her head, her eyes and mouth wide as if from an eternalized scream, her legs angled awkwardly.

Jory didn't gasp. She didn't cry out. Her eyes opened wide, black against dark iris, and her knees buckled and gave out beneath her. Kas was with her in an instant, her pale hands gently upon her girlfriends shoulders in an attempt to comfort, to show Jory her presence, but Jory raised her hand sharply into the air, a gesture that was meant to stop Kas in all that she was doing, and Kas froze.

Jory rose to her feet and walked a few steps, her eyes looking anywhere but at Belinda, and she drew a staggering, shacking breath that rattled her chest. Then, after drawing in a few breaths, she turned and faced Kas, even though her eyes were downcast. She could not look up.

“We're here, Jory.”, Kas said in a soothing, low voice.

“I know.”, Jory brought out and her voice shook. Tivon could hear the amount of control it took her from breaking apart completely.

“Tell us what you need.”, Kas insisted, but so very softly that the urge was barely in her tone at all.

“I'm okay.”, Jory lied, and Tivon dared not step closer. He waited, uncertainly what his part was to be. “I just need a minute. I'm sorry.”

“I understand completely.”, Kas whispered, her own sorrow clear not only from her trembling hands, but also from the tears in her eyes.

“I can't lose control here.”, Jory insisted, and it sounded more like a mantra for herself, as if the encouragement was what she needed at this very moment. “If you're too sweet to me, I'll fall apart.”

“Okay.”, Kas said quickly, and then, again. “Okay, we have a lot of work to do.”

“Right.”, Jory said, and somehow, she sounded stronger, as if she drew strength from Kas' words. “I have to get her ready—take her home. I have to tell...tell Momma.”

“We'll do it all together.”, Kas whispered, and her hands were raised toward her chest and Tivon could see that she wanted to reach out, to touch Jory, to give her all the comfort in the world that she could...and that she held back only because Jory had asked it of her.

“I...I don't know if that's...the best way.”, Jory said weakly and hesitantly. “I think we need to talk.” Kas just stared, waiting, wondering...and after a long pause, Jory finally continued. “Kas. Honey. I want you to go with them.”

“What?”, Kas breathed, and before Jory could argue, she continued defiantly, “No, I can't. My place is with you. What if you need me?”

“I'll be okay.”, Jory insisted, and this time it sounded less like a lie. More like...hope. “Our friends need you more. You have to keep them safe. I'll be with family. I'll catch up when I can.”

“No, Jory. It doesn't feel right.”, Kas protested. “This terrible... Your sister... I should be with you.”

“I love you for that.”, Jory whispered. “But no. You should be with them. We're talking about a dragon—the dragon that killed...Belinda.”

“I don't...like it.”, Kas finally finished, a weak defense if any, but it was clear now that she would do as Jory asked.

“I hear what you're saying, love. But this is how it has to be.”, Jory insisted, but she was still not looking up. That kind of power was beyond her at this moment. “We have greater responsibilities.” A small pause, and then, hopeful she asked, “What do you think?”

“I'll go.”, Kas agreed weakly. “But not tonight. Tonight, I'm staying with you. I'll leave tomorrow when you do.”

Jory nodded, accepting the terms. “This is the best way. You'll see.”

“I hope you're right.”, Kas murmured dejectedly.

“Jory.”, Tivon finally spoke, and to his surprise Jory looked up, her dark eyes glistening with tears under strands of hair that had fallen free. She looked wild, dishevelled, and Tivon knew part of her pain. “I am so sorry.”

Jory's eyes watered and she tore her eyes away, staring at the ground. “Not you too.”, she said weakly, and in her usual tone it would have been teasing, but now, it was a plea.

“I won't.”, Tivon reassured her. “Let me help you prepare her.”

Jory nodded. “Yes.”, she breathed. “Thank you.”

Tivon stepped toward the vine and drew the liquid from it, parching it from within. It wilted and fell away, fibres growing coarse and brittle, and slowly Belinda's body lowered down toward the ground until she rested in Tivon's outstretched arms.

He knelt down and laid her body onto the ground as gently as he could and looked at those large, dark eyes. Now that he looked closely, he saw the resemblance clear as day. Raven black hair, dark eyes with the depth of an abyss that now stared at him blankly.

Not, not at him. Somewhere beyond. Into the sky, the universe, the world itself, perhaps. Just not..here. Her body had grown cold, arms and legs limp, and he was sure that the rigor mortis would be a few more hours away.

“I'll...take care of her.”, Jory murmured. “You head back to Taimi.”

Tivon wanted to argue and his eyes lingered for a moment before he nodded. “I'll go.”, he conceded. “But you should know that I will be there if you call.”

Jory nodded, and Tivon saw the traces of a watery smile. It was only faint and weak, but it was there. “Alright.”, Jory murmured.

With that Tivon stepped toward Kas and placed a hand atop her shoulder and squeezed in, and Kas placed her hand atop his own and squeezed back. Her smile was sorrowful and anguished, and Tivon let his hand linger for a moment. “Take all the time you need.”, he told her and Kas glanced at Jory briefly before she met his eyes again.

“I'll be with you shortly.”, she murmured.

Slowly Tivon retracted his hand and then brushed past her, the news churning through his head and far beneath him, below the many layers of earth and stone, the vines crawled and spread, churning the very same.

 


	25. The Concordia Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. I said I wouldn't...I just can't help it. I am weak-willed like that sometimes *_*. Blame Lamshire and Putonlevis if you must, those two have been the light of my day. Give them cookies and love and chocolate. <3  
> Now enjoy!

With Kas and Jory somewhat safe Tivon also knew of their arrangement: Kas had mentioned that she would leave the next day, and this was why Tivon took the liberty to believe he had one day.

One day to travel all the way from Fort Salma toward Fort Concordia where Braham and Rox had to be and with any luck, he might even catch up in time.

_In time for what?_ , he asked himself as he jogged through the plains. Kota and Vail were at Taimi's side. He'd ordered his companions to look after her and even though she had mentioned that Scruffy was perfectly capable of keeping her safe, she had not objected. 

_Perhaps in time to prevent another needless death._

Belinda's death...she was one of many, and Tivon barely knew her. But he knew the pain such a loss inflicted, and he knew Jory. Kas was with her now, and perhaps that would help ease the grief somewhat...even though Tivon knew that the pain would linger.

He saw the two figures marching through a small river in front, just a few meters ahead. “What in Wolf's name is happening?”, Braham was saying, and his gaze was set out towards the small camp that stood in the very middle of the glade, surrounded by water and torn up from the inside by vines. The long, wooden barricades serving as walls were cracked and torn down, splintered parts dangling from the sides, and the sound of fighting was noticeable from here. “These vines... The kid was right again.”

“She's wrong sometimes too.”, Rox grumbled just when Tivon was behind them.

“Hello.”, he called, and startled them both. Rox jumped into the air like a cat and her body turned around, claws lifted and talons bared. Braham made a strange noise and drew his mace, lifted it and halted it mid-swing. Just for safety Tivon held up his staff, and looked at the mace with a raised eyebrow.

“By the spirits.”, Braham cursed and took a deep breath. “One of these days I might actually accidentally hit you.”

“I'd be surprised.”, Tivon jested and Braham rolled his eyes, glancing over at Rox.

“What'd you say?”, Braham asked, none the wiser.

“I said we should get moving, now that we're all here.”, Rox grinned, and Tivon knew she was glad for the opportunity to not repeat her prior statement. “From the look of it, they could use a hand.”

“I'll take the lead.”, Braham said and was making a step forward when Rox gestured for him to stop.

“Oh no, you don't!”, she protested vehemently, and Braham actually halted. “Not with that leg. You're still recuperating. Stay behind Frostbite. He's got a mean tail whip.”

Frostbite chittered behind them, approving of Rox's statement, and Braham let out a groan of annoyance. “Ganging up on me isn't fair. I'm fine.”, but when he looked at Tivon for support, the Druid only gave him a lazy smile. Braham sighed. “C'mon. Let's get this over with.”, Braham mumbled, slightly dejected, and he even gestured for Tivon to take the lead.

Tivon let his fingers grace over Braham's upper arm in passing, a small sign of comfort that he did not mean the norn any ill, and then he jumped down the rocks into the water with a splash. He grabbed his bow from his shoulders, easing the staff into a curl of vines that held the staff for him on his back as he moved. His arrows latched into the vines from a distance, but they did only very little.

He knew that well enough by now. If he riddled the mordrem creatures with arrows enough, they would succumb, but his arrows would not last.

The Mordrem Thrasher he hit barely even paid the arrow jutting from its petal any mind. Rox snarled when she noticed how ineffective her weaponry was, and Frostbite rushed past them into the fray, Braham following not short behind.

Their sudden appearance did two things: The Mordrem were squeezed between the Pact members stationed at Concordia and the team, whilst their attention also snapped toward the latter. The vines angrily began to twist and turn and even though they lacked any eyes and face, Tivon knew he and his friends were now the center of their attention.

The vines hauled backwards and threw gunk into the air. It flew toward them in an arc and splattered against Braham's absorption shield, the blue guardian magic rippling and stilling once again, absorbing the missiles without defect.

Frostbite meanwhile managed to tackle a stray vine down toward the ground where its pincers tore it apart, and Rox's arrows began to wear the Thrasher down. With their combined efforts they managed to strike the Mordrem back and the Pact members gave them an appreciative nod once they broke through, leaving a trail of Mordrem corpses in their wake.

“Tend to the wounded so we can get everyone inside.”, a man in Vigil armor ordered with a harsh gesture of his arm, beckoning everyone inside. There were stains of soot and dirt all over his armor, the metal slightly dented at the shoulders and chest, a few cuts lingering on his forearm. “Everyone inside. Close the gates!”

They fell in behind the Pact members and as the wooden gate shut behind them Tivon noticed that even inside, Concordia had suffered from the attack. The wooden stake walls reached high into the air offering little resistance to the vines and mordrem that burrowed into the Fort from underground, gouging through earth and stone alike. Even though the watchtower was still standing strong, they would never see Mordremoth's attack coming. There was no blocking out Mordremoth.

Tivon broke away from Rox and Braham and listened with a keen ear, but his eyes rested on those that were wounded. His crouched beside them and his magic served them well, his fingers splayed over wounds and his nature magic sewing and cording the skin back together. The estranged glances cast his way were ignored, his mind with his friends as he overheard Braham, Rox and the tactician.

“Thanks for helping us out here. That attack caught us by surprise.”, the tactician said as he stepped closer, brushing off a piece of vine and fern from a crevice in his armor. It fluttered to the floor in a hush.

“You had no warning?”, Rox asked in surprise, furrowing her eyebrows, gaze trailing over the gates and the walls. Only then did she seem to notice how very undefensible this position was; a Fort out in the middle of a glade, approachable from all sides, open and vulnerable.

“Well, a few small vines popped up after the Priory caravan arrived, but we didn't pay those any mind. Er, until they grew.” The last part was said almost sheepishly and the tactician looked over toward where a large, thick and thorn-adorned vine loomed high into the air in the very middle of the camp, tents and wagons lifted and impaled upon its thorns.

“Priory caravan?”, Braham echoed with suspicion. “Was it carrying the vines? Seeds?”

“Hmm, not that they mentioned.”, the tactician answered thoughtfully. “They did have some extremely old artifacts with them.”

“I'd like to talk to the scholar in charge of the caravan.”, Rox demanded.

“They headed northwest with Lindsay to find the rest of the cavalcade. Some were separated from this lot.”

“What's your plan?”, Braham wanted to know.

“I'm taking this caravan along with everyone from Concordia to an asuran lab northeast of here, for safety.”, the tactician decided, and Tivon agreed that this place was no longer safe. The asura in the east would have built their buildings with a much larger and stronger foundation. Perhaps there the vines would not burrow through.

“We can go along and provide additional security.”, Rox offered, and finally Tivon rose from his crouched position and stalked toward the others, his bow long strung over his shoulder once again, the staff a much more familiar weight now in his hand. Braham glanced at him from the side, giving him a raised eyebrow in question, but Tivon gestured toward the wounded and Braham understood.

“I want to find this Priory scholar and see where these vines came from.”, Braham said when his gaze lingered on the massive vine that protruded the middle of the camp and proposed, “Why don't we split up? We can cover more ground that way.”

“I don't know about that.”, Rox murmured hesitantly, and her eyes slowly met Tivon's. “Let's discuss it more.” She gestured toward the side and the three of them seperated themselves from the tactician and out of earshot.

“You worry too much, Rox.”, Braham grumbled as they came to a halt, and he even looked angry and annoyed. “My limp is completely gone! I should go with Tivon to find Lindsay.”

“I know you say your leg is fine, but that trip into Dry Top was hard on you.”, Rox cut in, her tail swishing from side to side nervously. She tilted her head and her voice was soft, “It'd be best if you stayed with Tactician Art's caravan. I can go with Tivon to look for survivors.”

“It's fine; I promise. I want to get back in action. You can stay back and help Tactician Art.”, Braham grumbled defiantly and even folded his arms in front of his chest. Tivon wondered if the norn knew of this small habit and what kind of impression it made.

“We'll need to know if your trust in that leg is warranted.”, Tivon conceded. “And we will never find out by treating you as if you were made from glass.”

Braham seemed to deflate somewhat. He had been ready to argue with Tivon, the words dying on the way to Braham's lips. Before Braham could say anything else, Tivon continued,

“Should the leg flare up again, I'll be able to help.” That, at least, was a great comfort. It was best that for now, Tivon stayed close to where Braham was – just in case. He turned toward Rox. “I trust that you and Frostbite can keep the survivors safe.”

Rox nodded, and Tivon was glad that she didn't look grim or dispirited by what he had said. She took it like a soldier – and an order was an order – and she straightened. “Then I'll let the tactician know. You should move; the caravan won't have gotten far.”

“See you on the other side, Rox.”, Braham waved, and Rox waved back with her clawed hand. He heard her heeling Frostbite before the aching of the gate was louder than her voice, and the Pact let them through before it shut once more behind them with a loud thud that vibrated in the earth beneath Tivon's feet.

Tivon gestured for Braham to follow him with a motion of his head. “Come on.”, Tivon said and they both jogged down the ramp toward the small stream and through the crystal clear water.

It was cool and soothing around Tivon's calves, the stones in the stream-bed slightly sharp, but not hurtful. He had so many memories around places similar to this...It was hard not to think of them. Hard to push them away.

“Thanks.”, Braham suddenly said and Tivon looked over his shoulder. “Rox is...worried, I know. But sometimes, she's overprotective.”

“She's lost much.”, Tivon answered thougthfully. Not that Rox was any exception, they all had lost much. “And she knows how very careless you can be.”

“Hey!”, Braham protested playfully. “I am capable of taking it easy.”

Tivon raised an eyebrow with a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Tell me when you do.”, he chuckled. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Braham's laugh was deep, a chuckle that came from deep inside his chest, warm and vibrating.

A steep slope rose before them covered in grass and stone and they climbed it with ease. Tivon didn't dare throw glances at how Braham was faring – he trusted that he would notice if something was off, or that the norn would tell him if something was amiss.

The few vines that crossed their paths were barely any challenge, and Tivon followed the large set of footprints he found in the slight damp of the grass and mud. They lead toward a small cave, the entrance carved broad enough for a dolyak to pass, and from inside the sound of fighting drew toward their ears. Hurriedly they moved around the bend and found the caravan cornered in a small, round compartment of the cave, the only one exit blocked by mordrem creatures.

Tivon snared them in place by summoning vines that only answered to his control, and Braham managed to snap the twigs and branches that kept the creatures together the old-fashioned way.

The woman leading the caravan was clutching her staff tightly, sweat forming on her forehead, the dark strands of hair falling freely and thinly around her head. She looked like someone who had expected to die – and not to be rescued.

“Thank goodness you found us.”, she breathed and stepped toward them. “I was afraid we'd be trapped here. How did you know to look for us?” There was a hint of suspicion in her voice, and her eyes glanced over Tivon's armor and his staff with wary.

“We heard there was trouble at Concordia and came immediately.”, Braham informed her.

“How bad are things over there?”, she asked. “Have the items in the fort been compromised?”

“I'm afraid so.”, Tivon answered. “The Vigil have retreated to the Goldenlight Hallow lab.”

She nodded in understanding. “What are we going to do now?”, she asked. “Our caravans were carrying magical artifacts out here for safekeeping. The Krytan royal locket is among them.”

“The Krytan royal locket?”, Tivon echoed.

“It's a magical locket.”, the magister explained. “It's said to always have the image of the current heir to the throne of Kryta displayed inside it. It's quite beautiful. And very powerful. And coveted. We move it from fort to fort on an irregular schedule. I probably shouldn't even be telling you about it.”

Braham shrugged his shoulders. “He has a way with people.”

Tivon chuckled. “My lips are sealed, magister.” She nodded gratefully. “Braham and I will escort you to Goldenlight Hallow.”

“That would be appreciated.”, the magister smiled and waved at the others of the caravan with a beckoning gesture. “Let's move.”

The caravan moved swiftly enough without any interference of vines at all. That should have been a relief, but Tivon felt the Mordrem magic right beneath his toes, curling and cruising through the earth. He couldn't wrap his head around why Mordremoth would be interested in artifacts, especially ones related to the hierarchy of the human world, but then again, the Elder Dragons consumed magic, and everything that was powerful enough to be coveted by all was alluring to an Elder Dragon just as well.

Arriving at the Goldenlight Hallow lab was very similar to arriving at Fort Salma, or Concordia. The vines had sprouted from the ground through the buildings very foundation, the usual smooth stone surface cracked and fissured under the assault.

Asura, pact and Vigil were fighting side by side, attempting to beat them off, and Mordrem swarmed in from all sides. Vines, Thrashers, Wolfs and Husks. Braham and Tivon joined the effort and with a quick glance Tivon affirmed that Rox was alright and met her gaze. He nodded curtly, just once, and she understood without a word being said.

The battle around them drew them together slowly, Braham shield bashing the nearest wolf that attempted to jump into Tivon's back, and Tivon meanwhile cast a sharp vine from the ground to pierce a Thrasher while Rox's arrows shattered a wolf's skull.

The Mordrem forces diminished and when finally even the last vine shuddered, twisted and sunk back beneath the earth all breathed a sigh of relief.

“You alright?”, Rox asked, her eyes lingering on Braham who was scrubbing some gunk from his shield and didn't even notice her eyes.

“We are fine.”, Tivon told her and turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“We got as many here as we could, though I'm not confident we're safe yet.”, the tactician from Concordia told them.

“There were wounded all through the hills. This is a bad situation.”, Braham grumbled and Frostbite chirped in affirmation.

“We should probably get over to Fort Salma.”, Rox suggested. “We're meeting friends there. Do you have this under control?”

“We're good.”, the tactician nodded. “Thanks for your help. Safe journey.”

Tivon waited until the tactician was gone. “Fort Salma is safe...for now.”, Tivon said, if a bit hesitantly. “We should head back to Taimi in Dry Top.”

“What about Kas and Jory?”, Rox wondered.

“They'll catch up with us. Eventually.” They didn't question what he said, neither did they seem to notice the hesitance in his tone, for which he was glad.

“Then let's head back to the ragamuffin.”, Braham chirped. “I'm sure she has some more discoveries to fill our ears with.”

Rox chuckled at that and Tivon noticed that this time, they didn't follow him, but that they all walked abreast. It was just a little thing, but standing between the two of them once again...he felt thrown back into the time where he had met them, and he couldn't help the small smile playing at his lips.

 


	26. The Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted so that Lamshire may read this during a long night. I hope you get to see the dawn darling <3.

They waited inside the large compartment of the cave where Taimi had discovered a strange device that was somehow linked to Scarlet, the ley-lines, and Omadd, but the small asura had refused to say anything until all arrived. Which meant that they waited for the last member...Kas. Because as Tivon knew, Jory was not going to come.

“There you are. We were starting to worry. Where's Marjory? You two are normally attached at the hip.”, Braham asked, but Kas didn't smile when she came down the metallic ramp. Her face looked sunken in, her eyes glazed and somewhat empty.

“Shut up, Braham.”, Rox grumbled, because she noticed the way the mesmer looked. “Kasmeer? Is Marjory all right? Did something happen?”, Rox frowned.

Kas cast Tivon a glance. Part of him wondered if he should have told the others, but it was too late now. “Her sister...Belinda...was killed...at Fort Salma.”, Kas told them, slowly. “Marjory went home to be with her family and to mourn.”

“Oh no. That's terrible.”, Braham murmured. “But, wait. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with her?”

Kas looked like she had bitten on something bitter. “I wanted to go with her, but she asked me to see this mission through. She's safe, at least, with family.”

“How's she holding up?”, Rox asked hesitantly.

“Oh, you know.”, Kas smiled, but it was weak. “She puts on a strong face, but I see right through it. I can see that she's hurting and that she blames herself. She promised she'd join us as soon as she can.”

“Poor Marjory.”, Taimi murmured.

“I'm so sorry, Kasmeer.”, Rox said and laid a clawed hand gently onto the Mesmers' shoulders.

“Sorry, my friend.”, Braham chimed in, and there was a moment of silence until Kas took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself, and Taimi was the one to break the silence.

“Let me catch you up on what I've learned so far.”, she suggested and waved her small hand toward the ceiling where Tivon saw a stone floating in the air that looked like asuran design. How it hovered remained a mystery. “This was Scarlet's first ley line. It's a hub where multiple lines converge, but it's still tiny compared to the one in Lion's Arch. Miners dug here and hit this pocket. I imagine the ley line messed with all their machines, so they abandoned the mine. But some must have talked, and Scarlet heard about it.”

“So this is where it all began?”, Tivon asked.

“This is definitely where Scarlet began to intensely research ley lines, yes.”, Taimi conceded. “These machines let us see the magic that is usually invisible.”

“What does all her research add up to?”

“You realize that if Scarlet hadn't lost her mind, she'd have been heralded as one of the greatest arcane researchers of the century. This is an unprecedented discovery—what all asura dream of.”

“I'm less interested in her past than in our future.”, Tivon said and tilted his head to the side, but he meant no ill with his words, nor was there any heat or argument in them.

“Impatient much? Gosh.”, Taimi teased with a smile. “Okay, I've ascertained that there's a disturbance in the ley lines, and it's affecting certain waypoints.”

“Affecting waypoints?”, Tivon echoed, eliciting her to continue.

“Unfortunately Scarlet was right.”, Taimi said, and Tivon thought if he should call her out on the arrangement of those words since she'd been offended if any one else of them had said them, but instead he kept it to himself. “When we asura placed the waypoints, some worked better than others, so we got rid of the ones that didn't work and kept those that did.”

“They worked better when placed on a ley line.”, Tivon concluded.

“Correct. Without even realizing what we were doing, we tapped into the power of the ley lines. And it's no longer just theory. I can prove it now.”

“So how are the waypoints affected?”

“I'm 98.5 percent sure I can answer correctly. It's these vines. They're attracted to the magical resonance of the waypoints. It's my belief that these vines we're seeing are coming directly from the dragon, spreading underground across Tyria. It's not just his corruption. It's him. As far as I can tell, the free-moving ones aboveground are corrupted. And spreading. But our primary concern is the waypoint situation. If that gets worse, we could be in serious trouble. ”

“Then we must do something.”, Tivon said, and he felt idiotic for pointing out the obvious.

“I was just getting to that.”, Taimi grinned. “I can build a device that will make the waypoints more efficient. They'll be less attractive to Mordremoth.”

“What do you need us to do?”, Kas asked with a frown.

“At the moment, nothing.”, Taimi shrugged from atop Scruffy. “I have the matter well in hand. But there is something else. Hee! Something so amazing! Wanna see? Follow me.”

They followed her obediently until Scruffy stood in the middle of the rounded compartment of the cave where the machine was, and she grinned down at them, revealing a row of sharp, pointy teeth.

“Looky look look! Can you believe your eyes?”, she beamed.

“Uhhhh. What is it?”, Rox asked unsure.

“It's Omadd's machine, you simpleton.”, Taimi answered.

“Hey. Respect.”, Braham issued.

“Sorry.”, Taimi quickly said, but she didn't look at Rox when she spoke. “But it's the very device that showed Scarlet the Eternal Alchemy. It still works!”

“Can I smash it? That thing's gotta be dangerous.”, Braham asked and already motioned for his mace.

“Absolutely not!”, Taimi raised her feeble arms in protest and stretched them outward to Braham. “Think about what we could learn. Besides, my mind is far more resilient than Scarlet's was.”

“Umm, I don't think you should mess with it.”, Kas murmured. “I'm inclined to agree with Braham. What do you think? If this is the device Scarlet portaled here from Omadd's lab, then it's got to be dangerous.” She was looking at Tivon now, and he thought it over, his eyes glancing over parts of the machine.

It looked like a small cone in asuran design, a stony ramp leading up just a few steps into a room that was barred away with an array of lasers that prevented unauthorized entry.

“It looks like Scarlet added to it. Some of the parts look different, newer.”, Tivon murmured carefully.

“That makes me even more nervous.”, Kas shuddered and turned fully toward Tivon. “Is it powered up?”

“I think so.”, he nodded.

“Taimi said it was designed to affect the mind, to open it to new awareness. When Scarlet got into it, she claimed she saw what asura call the Eternal Alchemy. It broke Scarlet's mind. After she used it, she was never the same. It's as if it opened the door to insanity. She committed her first murder after using it and escalated quickly after that.”

“Whatever Scarlet saw, I am not willing to gamble with Taimi's sanity.”, Tivon decided quickly.

“We can't let Taimi near it.”, Kas nodded in agreement.

“For her own good.”

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Kas' eyes turned toward the machine and she gasped. “Oh no! We have to—“, she breathed and moved forward, then Rox yelled,

“Taimi!”

and Taimi began to scream from within the machine.

Braham charged straight in and his body recoiled, lightning and sparks sizzling angrily at the entrance and sending the massive norn flying backwards the stone slope, crashing into the sand in front of Tivon's feet with a thud.

Braham raised his arm against the lightning and hissed, his arm badly scorched where it had impacted with a shield. “Can't get close. That thing is shooting off too much lightning.”, he hissed through gritted teeth and Rox was behind him, helping him up on his feet.

“I'll shield you. Get her out of there!”, Kas yelled at Tivon over the sizzling and sparkling of lightning and as soon as he felt her mesmer magic surround him like a cloak of velvet he rushed forward, the sparks shooting against the shield and absorbing into a ripple of purple. His body entered the machine without being blasted back and it took him only two large lunges to reach the small aura.

Taimi was screaming loudly, her small body hunched forward and quivering, hands pressing tighttly into the sides of her skull, and Tivon reached out toward her with his arm, yanked at her wrist and all but launched her small body toward the entrance where her body was caught in Kas's arms. He heard her huff and he turned his body fully, ready to lunge out when a sudden spark of lightning hit him in the knee and made him stumble toward the ground.

He blinked, surprised that he didn't feel any pain, his breathing suddenly louder in his own ears, all other sounds draining from all around him...

and then the world began to fracture beneath his arms.

The ground shattered and broke away, stone cascading down down _down_ into a sea of nothingness, of blackness, and Tivon was falling, falling endlessly and he held his breath, but he felt no rush of air, nothing at all. 

He was floating, drifting beneath the world, or maybe in between he wasn't sure. A path opened before him, lines of blue intersecting and crossing, creating woven lines and whorls that formed a tunnel for his body to drift into.

The sensation of falling stopped for but a moment and he stared ahead, drifting further, dragged forward as if by a stream and a light showered his face in a bright, blue light and he blinked in confusion before he made out the form of roots, bark, trunk...a tree.

The Pale Tree. It was there, the center, in the middle, and...

He fell forward. Pulled forward as if a band had been strung around his throat that was now taunt and yanking him in, and he fell in a word- and soundless scream.

The tree fell into a circle, enveloped by it, the center of a small universe all by itself, and from it formed small, round planets, orbs, spheres that orbited around it, twirling, spinning like planets around a sun, all of a different color, but all the very same size, and before Tivon could discern what it meant one sphere, a dark green, rose toward his face and then fell into the center, absorbed into it like a drop of water falling into the ocean, and the center changed.

Green grew from within, sprayed and crawled out towards the sides, reaching out, grasping and grabbing, and then Tivon saw it extending towards him like a cold, iron claw made from gnarled branches and moss-covered rotten roots, and it curled around his body and throat, engulfing and slowly swallowing him whole.

He gasped and withered and heard the voice once again, louder this time, so powerful his whole body shook with it.

“ _Mine.”,_ Mordremoth told him, and Tivon fought, he withered, he _screamed_ , and suddenly, his body was pulled out and away, floating, drifting upwards, the swirling orbits of planets disappearing into a swish and cascade of colors until -

“Hey!”, a voice called and his body shook, and then the image disappeared from his eyes, leaving only blackness. The world seemed to snap into place once again, the ground suddenly beneath him and he felt as if he had fallen onto the hardened sand, his back aching. “Hey, you okay?”, the deep voice of Braham asked somewhere above him worriedly. “I think he's dead.”

“What?”, Kas gasped and Tivon forced himself to breathe, to open his eyelids and when he flickered them open Kas breathed a sigh of relief. “No.”, she sighed with a watery smile that he could see through the blur of the edges of his vision. “He's alive.”

“Tell us everything! What did you see?”, Taimi demanded from somewhere far away, but nobody paid her any mind.

Tivon noticed that he was supine on the ground, Braham's arm underneath his shoulder holstering his body up, and slowly he began to feel his fingers again and managed to push himself up into a sitting position with Braham's help. “Are you all right?”, Rox asked worriedly and Tivon glanced up at her with hazy eyes. “Once it had you, we were afraid to just yank you out.”

“Then, you started screaming...and we had no choice.”, Kas said, and she looked almost bashful.

“How do you feel?”, Rox continued. “When you're ready to talk, we're ready to listen.”

Tivon nodded slowly. “I'm...”, he began, but he found no words to describe how he felt. His body felt strange. He'd felt like he had been pulled out of himself, so very much like the time he had been adrift in the Dream of Dreams...to be here so suddenly...

“Take deep breaths.”, Rox encouraged and her clawed hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder.

“It was incredible.”, he finally brought out, because it was the only word that came to his mind.

“What was? What are you talking about?”

“I had a vision. I saw it.”, Tivon said, attempting to put it into words. “The Eternal Alchemy.”

“You what?”, Rox asked and frowned. “You're going to have to explain. I don't understand.”

“I'll try.”, he murmured and forced himself to think of the right words. His mind seemed asleep still, the words slipping from him. “I saw how Tyria is woven, and...I'm tied up in it. Somehow.”

There was a small pause. “Okay, I think you need to rest awhile.”, Rox murmured. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

Tivon didn't have time for that. “Listen.”, he urged, and her green eyes were trapped by his. “Vast energies flow through and around Tyria, and I saw a dragon. It was part of the workings of the world. It came at me.”

“That sounds like a terrible nightmare.”, Rox murmured emphatically.

Tivon didn't dwell on the emotion. “I also saw the Pale Tree at the heart of a vast moving puzzle, as Scarlet did. We need to talk to her.”

“What can she do?”, Rox frowned. “She's a tree.”

“She's the _Pale Tree_.”, Tivon emphasized, but he was not angry at her ignorance. “She's magical beyond imagining. She can access the Dream. She's the sylvari's mother, _my_ mother.” Rox looked almost rueful, then.

“I wish I'd seen it.”, Taimi pouted.

“I'm glad you're okay, but you had magic flowing out of your ears.”, Braham laughed beside him, warm breath washing over the side of Tivon's cheek.

“It wasn't so bad.”, Kas tried to alleviate, but her smile gave her away.

“His branches were giving off sparks!”, Rox continued, and Braham burst into another round of laughter, Kas joining in this time.

“They did!”, she agreed and then quickly took a steadying breath. “OK, guys, this is serious. We need to talk about what we're going to do. What's the plan?” Tivon placed a hand on Braham's shoulder to brace himself and stood, but he noticed how Kas was looking at him for guidance. “Can you explain more about what you saw? What do you think it means?”

“It's hard to describe.”, Tivon answered when finally he found his own balance and was capable of standing without relying on Braham. “The Pale Tree was in my vision, represented by the symbol we saw on the drawing in Scarlet's room. We have to go talk to her.”

“In the Grove? Do you think she can help you make sense of your vision?”

“She may be our greatest ally.”, Tivon explained. “It's time to make the world aware of Mordremoth.” It had been the Pale Tree's intention all along. That was why a year ago Trahearne and Sgileas had banded the Pact together – to fight as one against the dragons. Bringing this to the attention of the rest of the world should be a marginal task in comparison.

“Yes, I see. We should talk to her.”, Kas nodded. “How do you think we should make the world aware? That sounds like a big job.´”

“We need to let leaders know.”, Tivon answered thoughtfully. There were the humans, the norn, the charr and the asura. The other races such as the quaggan and the hyek had already joined the cause by helping the pact. To think that the largest races somehow had not managed yet what the minority had... Tivon wondered if the leaders would even listen.

“So you don't just want to inform them. You want to get them to work together against Mordremoth?”, she inquired.

“I can't imagine any greater or more urgent threat than Mordremoth.”, Tivon frowned, even though he knew how very well people liked their very own, small problems. Had none of them ever stared at the starry sky and realized how very small and insignificant their pebble-quarrels were in comparison to the clockwork that was the world itself? Tivon reminded himself of that every night. That small as he was, together a difference was possible. A snowball could turn into an avalanche.

“True. Between the endangered waypoints, the corrupted Mordrem, and the vines spreading underground as far as the Shiverpeaks toward our hoards of magical items, I don't see how they could disagree.”

“We'll find a way.”, Tivon said, and then, more urgently he continued, “But first, we need to talk to the Pale Tree.”

“All right. You know we'd follow you anywhere.”, she smiled at him encouragingly. “Before I meet you at the Grove, I want to stop by the Reach and check on Jory.”

That gave him pause. “Are you alright?”, Tivon asked carefully, voice lowered.

“Me?”, she asked surprised and nervously averted her eyes, glancing over the ground. “Yes, I'm okay. It's not easy seeing someone you love go through a loss like that. Jory was trying to be strong, but all I could see was her despair. She's a soldier, so she bottles it all up inside. I just want to be there to pick up the pieces when the dam breaks.” There was a small moment where Kas' eyes seemed distant. “If only I still had my family's wealth, I could take her away from all this. Keep her safe. Give her the things she deserves.”

“She's a fighter. Do you think she'd be content being kept?”, Tivon inquired softly, and took a small and subtle step closer to her. He understood, even if sympathy was harder to express for him now.

“I don't know.”, Kas answered honestly and she sounded chagrined and dishearted. “I just want to do something for her. I just want her to be safe.”

_I just want her to be safe._

Derwen. The name came into his head before he could stop it, and with Mordremoth's presence glued into his head like a freshly sprouted poisonous bloom Tivon understood that fear suddenly far too well. Once again, not for himself. Never for himself.

“None of us are safe so long as the dragons are active.”, he murmured, as if she needed reminding what was at stake.

That however seemed to spur her into action and she raised her head with a determined look in her eyes. “I'll mail you when I'm ready to go to the Pale Tree.”, she gave him a curt inclination of her head and with a wave she said her farewells. “'Bye, everyone.” They watched her go, her long, tailed dress trailing after her and within the blink of an eye, she was gone.

 


	27. Rallying Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Another chapter for you! I love writing conversations with the Pale Tree, Canach and Malomedis. They give the whole story a new kind of depth that reminds me of philosophy and dealing with life's difficulties.  
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it :3  
> Have fun!

_The Pale Tree has agreed to an audience, but she wishes to speak with you personally. I'm already in the Grove with Braham and Rox. We'll wait for you there. Please come at your earliest convenience._

_Sincerely,_

_Kasmeer._

  
  


He was back in Caledon Forest, back in the Grove, standing right in front of the seed that would take him to the mother tree. It was all so achingly familiar his mantra was a constant reminder in his head of what he had to do, and why he had to do it. Why he broke away from the empathetic bond of those sylvari around him, why his path diverted.

They _noticed_. As he passed the many sylvari by they gave him strange glances, frowning at him. They felt his disconnection from the Dream. Knew that he was not one of the Dreamers, not any more. That his consciousness no longer bled into theirs.

He felt...more stranded and forlorn than he ever had before. A stranger in his own home.

Kota snuggled closer to his leg, sensing his distress, and Tivon glanced down at the Karka. “I know.”, he murmured. “This is for them. For my family. For _her_.”

Her being the Pale Tree. Their mother, _his_ mother. A sentient being and guardian that he cherished with all his heart, even though he was disconnected. He owed her all that he was; all his well-being, his very life, the purpose that drove him forward, and most importantly that she had given him a chance by bringing him into the world to prove himself and to change Tyria's fate.

With a deep breath he stepped into the seed and was carried upward. There was the soft sound of leafs fluttering in the elevating motion and Tivon craned his neck to look upon the bough above his head that came closer and closer, until the seed halted and opened. When he stepped out again the Omphaloo's chamber looked just as he remembered; a broad, wide plane of grass, bough of the tree surrounding him and under the shelter of a small wooden arch adorned with petals blossoming from fragile and lithe branches stood the Avatar of the Pale Tree, glancing toward him with pale, beautiful and knowing eyes.

“Mother.”, he greeted.

“My child. What a delight to see you looking so well.”, she said and Tivon felt that familiar blooming in his chest at the warm words. “You said you had a matter of utmost urgency to discuss. Please, let's talk.”

“Two things.”, Tivon began and stepped closer to her, feeling her soothing presence all around him, her scent lingering in the air. “First, I had a vision. You figured prominently in it.”

“I'm intrigued. Tell me more. What was it about? Where did you have this vision?”, she asked, and Tivon did not miss the way the wardens gave him a suspicious glare.

“In an asuran device Scarlet used to see the Eternal Alchemy. I saw it too.” The wardens seemed to stiffen, but the Pale Tree only looked worried.

“What dangers have you been toying with?”, she asked, but she sounded more concerned than scolding. “Such things were not meant to be seen. They will crack your mind.”

“I didn't understand much of the vision, but you were at the center.”, Tivon continued. It had not been his decision. If he had the chance to relive the events, he would still tear Taimi away from the machine. Who knew what Mordremoth would have done to her mind? No, Tivon was certain this was for the best.

“Well, my child, the one thing you must never forget is that I stand between you and the greatest darkness you'll ever know. A vast darkness intent on consuming all that we hold dear.”, the Pale Tree murmured foreboding and her body swayed slightly like branches in a breeze.

“What do you mean, Mother?”, Tivon frowned.

“There are those who reject my protection.”, the Pale Tree said, and her pale eyes lingered on him. “It leaves them...”, she paused and corrected herself, if a bit reluctantly, “ _you_ vulnerable in ways you cannot imagine, in ways you have never been before. I shield you as best I can and will for as long as I can.”

What did she mean? That with him breaking away from her, from the Dream, he was somehow...vulnerable? That her protection did not extend toward him now that he was Soundless? “You're talking about dragon corruption. We've been immune to it.”, Tivon noted.

“Yes. In the past, my children have been immune.”, the Pale Tree answered, and Tivon knew she spoke of the time of Zhaitan's rise in Orr. “But Mordremoth's corruption is powerful, and just as Zhaitan created the undead from so many creatures, so Mordremoth's corruption can change you.”

“What of Scarlet?”, Tivon brought in.

“I believe she opened herself to it when she let down the wall of her mind. Mordremoth's corruption seeps in through the cracks in our willpower. Do not follow in her footsteps.”

_Cracks of willpower_ . Tivon shuddered at the memory of that voice speaking in his mind, vibrating through the fibres of his body. “I have no plan to do so, Mother. I'm strong willed.”, he told her determinedly.

“Yes, you are.”, she smiled at him. It was encouraging, and he found no lie weaving into her words. She believed him, _in_ him. “So tell me, what is the second half of your quest here today. How may I help you?”

“I wanted to ask more about Mordremoth. It seems to have fully awakened.”

“It is true.”, she conceded solemnly. “The Elder Dragon Mordremoth has reached full awareness.”

Beside her, one of the Wardens stared at her in shock. “No!”, he gasped, and the Pale Mother gave him a glance.

“I've known since the moment we heard the roar. Lochin, would you kindly find Niamh and ask her to come speak with me?”

“Of course. I'll return with her as quickly as I can.”, Warden Lochin said, bowed and brushed past Tivon toward the seed together with the other Warden. Tivon followed the wardens with his eyes and noticed that he and the Avatar of the Pale Tree now were alone.

“I had to send him away. What we have to discuss is too serious.” She stepped forward, the dress of white blossoms surrounding her lithe body chiming softly as she moved, and the golden pollen collected in the grass beneath her like golden rain. “I want to hear your thoughts on this. Tell me, what do you know about Mordremoth?”

Tivon lowered his eyes, his breath taken by her graceful movement, the power that permeated the air around her, her very presence. It seemed to engulf him in warmth, a wide-spread languid spark he remembered from his time where he had lain unconscious in a bough beneath her.

He  _ missed  _ this. The feeling of belonging, the calling of the Dream, the connection to the others. However much he did, however, he knew he couldn't turn back.

“It's been killing people. It attacked Forts Salma and Concordia.”, Tivon told her, and wished he could show her his memories through the Dream. It would be so much easier to show her the kind of destruction and chaos the dragon wrought.

“And its minions.”, she continued softly. “They've spread far?”

“We encountered them far to the east and west as close as Brisban Wildlands.”

“So soon?”, she whispered. “And so close. That does not bode well. Please continue.”

“Salma and Concordia were destroyed by its giant thorn vines.”

“This is troubling news.”, she breathed, her gaze dropping toward the ground in thought.

“There's more.”, Tivon murmured. He did not want to tell her of all these horrible things. He did not want to cause her any distress. But he knew he had to. “The minions are attracted to waypoints. They destroy them.”

She nodded. “I understand. The situation is dire. If the Elder Dragon's reach is that great, the entirety of Tyria is at risk.” Her gaze lingered on him and she stepped even closer, her scent lingering in his nose. It was not a scent he could easily place; it was no mere flower, no scent in the wind of a summer breeze. It was the scent a mother carried, one promising ease and warmth and safety. “What do you recommend we do?”, she asked him.

He straightened slightly at that, surprised that she was seeking his counsel.“We need to inform the world's leaders and get them to join ranks.”, Tivon suggested.

“I see. A summit, then. I could host such a gathering, if you can convince them to come.”, she nodded thoughtfully. “Who do you plan to invite?”

“All the leaders of the other races. I'll ask my friends who would be best.”

“I'll leave it in your hands then while I prepare here. You did the right thing, bringing this to me. I am happy to help you.”, she smiled, but it turned sad, her eyebrows furrowing. “It is good to see you are well, my child.”

Something in Tivon's chest twisted, and it took all his strength not to avert his eyes. “The path is hard, and hardened ground makes stronger roots.”

Her smile was everything, then. Full of love and care that it touched the still sore spots in Tivon's soul. “Keep the teachings in your heart, my son.”, she asked of him, a soft plea. “I will shield you for as long as I can, but the path you tread will tear you from my protection. It takes more of my strength to reach out toward those children that reject it.”

Tivon wanted to deny it. That he did not reject her protection, simply his connection to the Dream and his family to _protect_ them, but in the end it was just splitting grass. What difference did his intention make, when in the end it bore this result? “What does that mean?”, he dared to ask, and the Pale Tree shifted as if uncomfortable.

“The darkness will prey upon your mind.”, she murmured. “You will be tested, and when you go to fulfil your Wyld Hunt, I can not help you.”

Tivon nodded, his throat suddenly tight. Something bitter rose from the thought that all of this was simply because Derwen had pushed him this far, simply because of the Nightmare Court -

“What of the others?”, he asked. “What happens to those that have fallen into Nightmare?”

Her eyes lingered and pierced him as if she could see into his soul. As if she could see that he was worried for another, that he cared for the one that had brought him onto this path even after everything, and she slowly shook her head. “I can not reach them.”

“They are...vulnerable.”, Tivon concluded breathlessly.

Derwen was vulnerable.

Derwen was in _danger._

It suddenly mattered so very little whether he would have to walk into the Maguuma Jungle to face Mordremoth without his Mother's soothing presence. Suddenly that was all very, very far away.

Instead he felt the weight of his necklace heavily resting atop his clavicle like a stone. Weighing him down.

The Pale Tree gave him a watery smile. “Love is pure.”, she told him, once again, and he suddenly understood better than he had all those months ago. “It is a light in the darkness. From it you may draw your strength.”

_Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter._

It was part of his mantra. He had not realized why his soul had found peace at the words. What the light was supposed to represent. Now he did.

“I will do what I have to.”, Tivon said with determination and bowed his head. “My friends and I will see this mission through.”

She nodded and stepped back. “Safe journeys, my child. I will make preparations for the summit.”

Tivon left the way he had come, and even though the words of the Pale Tree lay heavy in his mind, the worry atop his chest was a weight without compare. His own vulnerability was negligible in comparison to that of the person he loved, and the thought that Mordremoth would reach out to Derwen, that Derwen might be caught unawares as he had and become corrupted...

His fingers curled around the bud that dangled from the necklace. He would not allow that. They would bring the world leaders here, they would see to it that the world stood united against the dragon...

and Derwen would be safe.

_ Yes _ , a voice soothed in his head.  _ He's strong. You are strong. Tyria has beaten one Elder Dragon before this. Together, unimaginable things can be achieved. _

“And?”, Kas all but clung to him when he exited from the seed. “What did she say?”

“She will make preparations for the summit. We now have to get the world leader's to meet us here.”

“With her name on the summit, they might just come. But who? And how?”, Kas asked.

“We split up. Get to whomever you can—the highest ranking in your home city.”

“So we're going to get someone from Divinity's Reach? The queen? And Rox is going to the Black Citadel?” she sounded disbelieving, as if she had somehow misunderstood, but Tivon nodded encouragement.

“And Braham will go to Hoelbrak. We can do it together.”

She nodded. “All right. We can do this. I won't get an audience with the queen, but I can speak with Countess Anise.”

“Nervous?”, Braham asked her. “I know you've had, um, issues with your people.”

Kas shook her head. “No, I'm fine. I just haven't had to speak with Countess Anise or the queen for a while, not since...my father...”, she trailed off and left the rest unsaid.

“I suppose I'll have to toughen up and talk to Tribune Brimstone. I won't get anywhere near Smodur.”, Rox grumbled thoughtfully.

“Yeah, and I'll have to return to Hoelbrak. Last time I saw Whitebear, my mother was there.”, Braham murmured, and Rox stepped beside him.

“We can do this.”, she encouraged. “It's important. And afterward, we'll meet up again.”

Braham shrugged. “Not every battle is fun, I suppose. Before I head to Hoelbrak, I should find Taimi. She's in Rata Sum. Maybe she can talk to Zojja about getting an asuran leader at the summit.”

“But in their minds, she's just a student. No one there pays much attention to her.”, Kas put in.

“I know, but she's got Zojja's ear. It's worth a shot.”, Rox shrugged.

“If she fails,” Tivon chimed in, “I will ask Sgileas to join our effort. He and Zojja fought Zhaitan together.” He would have to tell Sgileas about all this anyhow; he was sylvari, just like him, and he deserved to be warned. The Pact would be at the front line of the assault against Mordremoth; even if the Pale Tree would have no difficulty reaching out toward him.

Kas did not look happy at the mention of the commander's name, but she agreed. “Well, we have everything covered. Send word to each other when things are squared away, yes?”

“Deal.”, Rox grinned. “Guess all we have to hope for is that everyone agrees to show up.”

“Once we get them in one place, we can worry about convincing them to join forces.”, Kas sounded much more convinced now.

“The world coming together in support of a single cause? Yeah, that'll happen.”, Braham grumbled, not believing it quite yet.

Rox spit on the ground, startling them all and making them glance her way. She grinned sheepishly. “For luck.”

Kas laughed. “Oh, Rox. Please.”

Tivon was startled by the sound of footsteps behind him and he turned around. Looking at him with the very same stern and yet intrigued gaze was Malomedis, his old mentor and firstborn. He turned toward the sylvari fully and inclined his head in greeting.

“Malomedis.”, he said, and the firstborn made a similar gesture with his head, but the firstborns eyes lingered on him through the movement.

“A moment of your time, if you would.”, the firstborn asked blandly, and only then did Malomedis glance at the companions behind Tivon that threw him an estranged and suspicious looks.

“Of course.”, Tivon answered and looked back over his shoulder. “I will only be a moment. You may already go on ahead without me.”

They seemed reluctant to leave him for a second and hesitated, but then Kas gave a nod. “Alright.”, she murmured. “We'll be in touch.”

Tivon nodded as a response and then followed Malomedis through the many passageways of the Grove, the grass rustling softly beneath his feet. Their pace was slow and easy, and Malomedis spoke after just a few steps. “You have changed, valiant.”

Was the verbiage a sign that Tivon seemed like a stranger now, after all the changes he had undergone? Was it a sign that Malomedis distanced himself from him? Either way, Tivon understood, even if he missed the reassuring and comforting presence of a stern but caring mentor that had guided him throughout the first steps of his journey.

“I have.”, Tivon said, and it felt more like a recent and freshly sprouted admission than plain truth. “Will that change us?”

He meant their relationship, that of a mentor and a student, even if Tivon felt little like a student now. He felt more like a grown sylvari than ever before, more certain in each and every step than his fumblings as a sapling. Perhaps it was Malomedis acknowledging his growth by calling him _Valiant_ and not _Sapling_.

Malomedis understood. “It will not.”, Malomedis told him and it fell from Tivon like a stone that had weighed him down. His next breath came more easily and freely, the tension leaving his body. “I have been told of what happened, but I would hear it from you.”

Tivon knew he did not owe Malomedis any explanation as to why he had chosen this path, but it was a more heartfelt obligation as a _friend_ to tell his old mentor of where his life had carried him...and why.

So he told him how he had met Derwen, how the mystery had fascinated him and intrigued him to the point where his mind had been engulfed and wrapped around it – the point where there had been no going back.

Malomedis was quiet and listened. His hands were folded at the small of his back, head slightly inclined, gaze toward the ground, glazed and not seeing. He was attentive and nodded once and again, urging for Tivon to continue, and not once did Tivon see the sign of disgust or a frown upon Malomedis features.

“You awakened with an insatiable curiosity.”, Malomedis murmured after Tivon had finished. “We can not influence the forces that abuse our qualities.”

“Derwen said that I knew.”, Tivon remembered. “That my instincts knew.”

“They most likely did. It is no coincidence that you gave the hound its name.”, Malomedis agreed. “That, however, is not all.” It was not a question, more an urge for Tivon to continue.

“He intended to use me to bring Nightmare into the Dream.”, Tivon continued and followed the gentle arch that lead down below, the waters at the very ground level glittering in the luminescent blue light that filtered through the blossoms of the flowers beside the road. “I could not hate him. I was... _am_ in too deep. I decided to take the path of the Soundless to shield my family, to learn to better myself...and to stop the Nightmare.”

“You loved a lie.”, Malomedis replied bluntly, and the bolt hit home. Tivon felt as if someone had stabbed him through the chest and he lowered his gaze, could feel Malomedis dark eyes seeking to pierce his. “And now all that you love is a memory.”

They came to a halt abruptly, the water shifting in gentle waves, rippling just a few feet away against the earthen shore. The words were honest and blunt and nothing had made felt Tivon quite like a Sapling like this did. He was more a student now than a sylvari grown, and slowly he lifted his eyes and summoned his courage. “And what would you have me do?”, he asked slowly, fearing the answer.

Malomedis held his gaze for a few agonizing seconds, unmoving, and in that moment Tivon was reminded of Sgileas and his cold bearings, but the image shifted away when Malomedis shook his head. “There is no right or wrong in this.”, Malomedis said softly and raised a hand toward Tivon's shoulder. The fingers braced against his deltoid and squeezed gently, offering a little comfort in Tivon's growing confusion. “You have defied the nightmare. That is a feat not many can accomplish.”

“Has this...happened before?”, Tivon wondered and Malomedis nodded.

“More often than we most likely will ever know. A broken heart may be all it takes to turn to Nightmare. The pain of such a thing is often ridiculed and dismissed, when it is one of the strongest forces to tear at our souls.” Malomedis hand retracted and fell from his shoulder. “Nobody can tell you right from wrong, especially not I.”

“Then...tell me what advice you would give me.”

“Move on.”, Malomedis said. “Find someone to fill the empty spaces, to cleanse your soul from distrust and lies. If you refuse to let yourself heal, you will be miserable forever.”

“That would only be a replacement.”, Tivon argued. “I can not let go, even if I wanted. I felt...whole. Complete.”

“Even if it was a lie?”, Malomedis asked, eyes like daggers in the darkness. Sharp and uncompromising.

“What is love if not unconditional?”, Tivon asked in return and Malomedis straightened, taking him in. The moment of silence stretched and Tivon listened to the soft rustle of the wind through the grass and over the trees, listened to the dabble of the water and the laughter of sylvari drifting to his ear from a distance.

“If you hold on to what is not real, you will lose your grasp on reality.”, Malomedis said slowly. “Tell me: If he returned to you and asked your forgiveness, what would you do?”

That startled Tivon. He had not thought of such a thing happening; it was beyond his imagination. It  _had been_ until that very moment, and now that he imagined it he noticed how harshly it shook him on the inside, the confusion filling him.

Fear and joy battled, wrecking and bringing his mind into turmoil. He imagined it, imagined Derwen standing in front of him, and somehow the image became more vivid by the second.  _Rain, thunder, trees bending in a storm and pearls of water like tears on dark cheeks. “Forgive me.”, Derwen said. “Please, forgive me.”_

“He would never say such a thing.”, Tivon rasped out, his chest suddenly tight at the conflicting emotions. _It's a lie_ , a voice yelled. _If he ever did say such a thing, it would be a lie, a tool to toy with you_.

“And if he did?”

“It...”, Tivon gulped. “It would be a lie.”

“And what would you do?”

_Waiting, Derwen's dark and white eyes waiting, hopeful, hand itching to reach out, and Tivon -_

“ _I do not believe you.”_

“ _What would you have me do?”, Derwen asked, desperate, stepping forward, and Tivon stood stock still, not giving in, not moving an inch._

“ _Be true.”, Tivon answered blankly. “There is no need for lies.”_

_Eyes darkening, Derwen's face slowly fading from hopeful and desperate into a normal, blank expression and then, ever so slowly, he smiled. It was almost wicked, the way those lips curled at the edges, water dripping down the long lines of his neck. “You will not like the truth.”_

“ _That will be for me to decide.”_

_A thunder strike illuminated their faces and then -_

The image faded as it had come, and Malomedis looked thoughtful and sympathetic. “You would take him back.”, Malomedis murmured slowly. “Regardless of what he did, regardless of what he is.”

Tivon was not sure if he heard disappointment or resignation, or neither of those two. Malomedis kept his voice level and his eyes seemed distant. “I would protect him.”, Tivon answered. “I will.”

“He will tear through you with a jagged knife.”, Malomedis said sharply. “The Nightmare Court do not stop until you are dead or one of their own.”

“I will complete my Wyld Hunt.”, Tivon argued with determination. “That is my purpose. The Nightmare will not take me.”

“Then you will bleed out from an open heart.”, Malomedis declared. “There exists no strength to brace yourself against that storm.”

“My heart went over my mind.”, Tivon conceded. “I made a decision and even if it brings me to my knees, I will stand by it. If there is no integrity, if there is no truth to my words, then I am no better than he is.” Malomedis looked ready to argue, but Tivon shook his head, gesturing for the firstborn to listen. “I will continue on my path and not seek palliation in form of a replacement. I will be true to my word and hold no grudge nor vengeance.”

“Even if he kills you.”, Malomedis said, and it sounded like a final question.

Tivon nodded. “Yes. Even if he kills me.”

Malomedis studied him and then sighed, shaking his head. “You are as stubborn as an oak, and as foolish as a moth flying into the light to burn its own wings. But perhaps in such conviction there is wisdom. To seek truth in ones self is an effort for a lifetime.” Malomedis then gazed up the passage they had come and held out his hand toward Tivon and the druid took it firmly. The shake of hands was awfully formal and yet, Tivon felt more connected to Malomedis than he ever had, as if he was saying goodbye not to a mentor, but an old friend. “I wish you safe travels, Tivon.”, Malomedis said. “Your path is your own. Take your integrity in stride, and let no fool words discourage you. The only lasting peace is the peace within your soul.”

“I will not allow this experience to color my world.”, Tivon promised. “No evil nor sorrow will grow from it.”

Malomedis nodded, getting it, and when his hand glided from Tivon's the firstborn folded his hands behind the small of his back and brushed past him, slowly disappearing around the small glade into the quarters of the many houses of the firstborn, and Tivon stared after him for a while before he turned and took a deep breath.

_Here I go._

  
  


 


	28. The Waypoint Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am so far ahead, I'm uploading more than one chapter. Yay! I might even be persuaded to upload one in the middle of the week (For the curious ones: I am currently at "Tracking the Aspect Masters", so, yeah. I'm far ahead, haha.).  
> Anyways, enjoy <3

Tivon returned to the ley-line hub to meet up with Taimi, where he found that the small asura had unpleasant company.

“Don't touch anything!”, Taimi squeaked from up ahead and Tivon saw her sitting atop her golem in a heightened position, staring down at Phlunt who was mustering and handling some of Taimi's equipment with self-assuredness as if there were his own.

“Progeny, do not speak to your elders in such a tone! I won't have it.”, Phlunt snapped at her, ignoring her squeak.

Taimi didn't seem impressed, and gave Tivon an exasperated glare when he approached that held anger which was not purposefully directed at him. “I thought you'd never get here.”, she said and raised an accusing finger at him. “Did you stop off at the Dead End for a pint and a pie or something?”

“I got your mail.”, Tivon answered, not bothered by her tone at all, and he came to a stop beside the two. He gazed at the asura that surrounded the cave and most of Taimi's equipment and Taimi gestured with her head toward the side and he followed her out of earshot. “What's going on?

“I talked to Zojja, just like Braham asked me to. She got me in to see Councillor Phlunt. It was all great until I made the mistake of mentioning my device.”, Taimi grumbled, and Tivon could see how annoyed she was. Phlunt was slowly eroding her nerves.

“The waypoint recalibration device you've been working on?”, he concluded.

“Exactly. I'm almost done with it. So, he insisted on coming to see what I was working on. I had no choice. I had to bring him here.”

“Are they going to come to the summit?” It was most important that they did. The world needed to work together against Mordremoth; the Elder Dragon was a threat to them all. If only one party fell out of line, their chances of success were diminished. Asuran technology was almost legendary, able to achieve and accomplish feats that remained a mystery to most other races.

“He won't commit.”, she snarled in frustration and her ears bristled. Sometimes, Tivon thought idly, aura reminded him of cats. “He says it all hinges on whether my device works or not.”

“Let me talk to him.”, Tivon suggested.

“If you need a blunt object, I have some spare bars just down by the machine.”; Taimi told him as he turned, and he raised an eyebrow at her over his shoulder, and she gave a nonchalant shrug with her tiny shoulders.

The Councillor gave Tivon an inquisitive stare when he approached, the tiny arms folded tightly over his flat chest. “I've surmised that you are Tivon.”, the asura said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself at his deduction skills. “What is your involvement in all this?”, he demanded to know.

“I'm a friend of Taimi's. We're working together on the summit.”, Tivon explained, his staff resting easy at his side. He leaned his body slightly against it and noticed the wary glance Phlunt gave the weapon. Perhaps the asura did know how insufferable he was and was indeed expecting someone to exact violence upon him. If he did, he did not show his fear.

“Good. I'm glad she has a hint of adult supervision. However, it is of utmost importance that the Council be alerted when underage progenies make discoveries such as this cave.”

Tivon ignored the implied _'You should have told us what you found, now we will have trouble seizing it because of your interference'_ and continued to lead the conversation instead, “I understand you're here to inspect her device?”

“That is indeed the case. I need to verify that she is in no danger. She claims to have discovered a means to lowering the frequency at which the waypoints resonate.”

“She is working on it, yes.”, Tivon mentioned almost nonchalantly, reminding the Councillor that at this point in time, there was no time to stick around. Perhaps a bit of subtlety was a good negotiation strategy.

“Golly. I'm right here!”, Taimi called in exasperation, and without Scruffy she was moving a lot more slowly. “ And I'm not just working on it. I'm almost done. It's going to save the waypoints.” So much for subtlety.

“How close are you?”, Tivon asked.

“Well, I'd be closer if these...scholarly gentlemen would stop distracting me from my work.” The way she said it made it almost clear she meant none of it.

“Councillor, Taimi needs time to finish.”, Tivon turned back to the asura with a diplomatic stance. “We promise we'll show it to you then.”

“I will wait for a short while, but I insist on inspecting the device soon.”, Councillor Phlunt grumbled in distaste, but at least he was yielding.

“And you will attend the summit? It's very important.”, Tivon continued, completely unaffected by Phlunt's glare.

“I will attend the summit, but only after I verify that this device can protect our waypoint network from marauding vines. Otherwise, I'll have to return to my lab.”

“We understand.”, Tivon nodded. “C'mon, Taimi. Let's get to work.”

Taimi was glad to lead him toward her working station and she made a wide shooing motion with her arms. “Everyone stand back, except my assistant. Back! Back! My brain needs some room to breathe.” The asura moved out of the way and Taimi watched them as they retreated with the eyes of an eagle before she spoke again. “Is that old windbag out of earshot? Good. Okay, let's talk. I'm gonna need your help to build this thing. I'm going to explain this in terms you will understand, okay? The device we're building modulates—changes—the frequency at which a waypoint resonates—how fast or slow it vibrates.”

“Got it. How does it work?”

“Good. In theory, it taps into the waypoint network, finds the waypoint we want to fix, and then a dialogue happens between my device and the waypoint. Basically, my device calms down the waypoint.”

Another nod. “Okay. I understand. What's left to complete?”

“I need three very specific parts. There are tons of scrap here from the Inquest. My hope is that we'll find what I need here. Ugh, but it's going to take forever with Phlunt breathing down my neck.”

“I'll gather the parts while you stay here and work. It'll save time.”, he offered.

“That's perfect.”, she grinned. “I'll send Scruffy with you. He has an autonomous mode now. I've been hoping for a good chance to test it.”

“Sounds good.”, Tivon agreed. “What am I looking for?”

“Let me load up Scruffy with a few detection algorithms to help you out.”, Taimi said and was already changing something on Scruffy's panel. “Okay, part number one. I need containment sterilization fluid. You know, that icky stuff the Inquest stores specimens in.” When Tivon raised his eyebrow she noticed. “Don't worry, I'm not trapping innocent life-forms. This stuff just so happens to be suitable for the liquid elements of the device.”, she chirped, and then continued. “Number two! The aetheric armature from a standard power generator. I'm sure they've got one around here somewhere. It's not a lab unless there are power generators going haywire. Finally, I need a sample of ley line magic-infused rock. You could mine some, perhaps, but that'd take ages. I spotted samples earlier, stored in wooden boxes toward the rear of the cavern. Much easier to just take those.” She made a few more adjustments before she rose, and Tivon was once again surprised by how small she was. If Scruffy did not exist, perhaps she would have found a solid place on Braham's shoulder. “Scruffy is ready to take commands. Simply interact with his input panel and select the behaviour routine you want him to follow. He can detect items of interest, follow you, and defend from enemies. Scruffy can also repair damaged containment units if you happen to find any.”

Tivon tried to remember it all and then set Scruffy to follow him. The thud of the golems metallic legs was a steady rhythm that was almost soothing, and Tivon had no trouble collecting the items Taimi had requested. It took him about half an hour to find everything and assure himself with Scruffy's sensors that these were the items she was looking for, and upon return he heard the impatient voice of Phlunt reach his ears. “Are you done?”

“No, it's not done yet.”, Taimi said, and Tivon was surprised she didn't snap. “Stop asking.”, well, there it was.

“When do you expect completion?”, Phlunt continued to pester her.

“There you are.”, Taimi sighed in relief when he approached, and she completely ignored Phlunt. “Got all the parts? Lemme hop onto Scruffy and make the finishing touches.” Scruffy settled on the ground in a crouch and Taimi climbed into her cockpit, settling into her seat. With the golem leading her way she could easily place the items where she needed them, and she grinned sheepishly when she turned around after completion. “Well, Councillor Phlunt, I'm sorry to report that I've completely wasted your time and the waypoints will now be destroyed by Mordremoth.”

“What?”, Phlunt asked, outraged, but he didn't get to make a rant.

“Just kidding.”, Taimi giggled. “My patent-pending waypoint recalibration device is now complete.”

Phlunt was _not_ pleased. “Oh, you little degenerate.”, he hissed, and Tivon narrowed his eyes at Phlunt in warning. The Asura had his arms folded in front of his chest once more, and when he noticed that Tivon was glaring at him he seemed to flinch somewhat. With a more calm voice he said, “Turn it on.” and refused to meet Tivon's eyes.

“I'm gonna need to take this to the heart of the ley line chamber. Watch your step down the ramp.”, Taimi told them and went on ahead. Tivon was right behind her and wondered if this kind of treatment happened all the time. Now he somehow understood why Taimi acted the way she did. Someone weak of mind and will would not hold out against people like Phlunt.

When finally they all arrived right in front of Omadd's machine, Taimi continued.

“From the center here, we can hop on whatever confluence of ley lines Omadd's crazy-box ran on. And once the device is fully active, it'll adjust the waypoint's energy configuration to be bland and uninteresting to Mordremoth. It's on and scanning the waypoint network now.”

Phlunt didn't even wait one moment to ask, “So? Did it work?”

“Hold on.”, Taimi urged. “The network is vast. It may take a while before I know.”

“How long?”, Phlunt demanded to know.

“Best approximate estimate: a few weeks.”, Taimi replied nonchalantly.

“A few weeks?”, Phlunt brought out in outrage. “Unacceptable. Who knows how many waypoints we'll have lost by then!” With a swift turn he looked at his colleagues. “We need to discuss this.”

“Hi Kasmeer.”, Taimi greeted with a wave, and Tivon turned around to notice the mesmer walking down the ramp. “Don't pay attention to Phlunt. The boss is handling it.”

_I am? ,_ Tivon wondered and when Taimi gave him a shit-eating grin he knew he had little choice. With just a couple of steps he was with Phlunt who had already gained some color around his cheeks. “This is unacceptable!”, he fumed. “I should have known better than to trust some underage...degenerate...agh!”

Tivon was patient and his voice level when he answered, “Councillor Phlunt, I'm sure Taimi can speed up the process.”

“She'd better.”, Phlunt spat. “I'm not attending anything until we have a working solution to the endangered waypoints. If you want me at your summit, you'll get her moving.”

“I understand.”

Phlunt lifted his chin in a defiant gesture, which, in all honesty, Tivon found more baffling than intimidating. When Tivon held the Phlunt's glare with ease and nonchalance, the asura gave the others a beckoning wave and the group of asura shuffled up the ramp and back into the cave, out of sight and thankfully, out of mind.

“Wow, you work fast! And you just started today?”, Kas breathed in awe, and it was refreshing after all of Phlunt's demanding nature.

“It's not like I just imagined it. Once you've got the design, all it takes is time.”, Taimi answered with a shrug and when Tivon approached, she looked grateful. “And, well, I couldn't have done it without the help. Thanks.”

“I am simply glad Braham was not here.”, Tivon said thoughtfully and stared at where the asura had left not a few moments ago. “I am sure he would have done something very unpleasant to Phlunt.”

Taimi giggled. “That'll keep me motivated.”, she grinned.

Kas chuckled as well. “I came to check on Taimi, but I'm glad to see you here, too. I talked to Countesss Anise like you asked.”

“What did she say?”

“She relayed our invitation to the queen and, surprisingly, replied quickly. Queen Jennah will attend the summit!”, Kas beamed.

“That's great news. Our first confirmation.” _Hopefully, it will not be the last_ , Tivon thought. With the asura tip-toeing around, he knew there was to be more trouble along the way. There was no way this project would go smoothly. There were bound to be bumps along the road.

“I know!”, Kas chirped. “Apparently, talking to Countess Anise was the right move. What are you going to do now?” She looked back and forth between them, awaiting an answer eagerly.

“I'm meeting Braham in Hoelbrak. He has to talk to Eir about Whitebear.”, Tivon answered.

“Ooh.” A short pause. “Right. Well, good luck with that. I know he doesn't get along so well with his mother. Your presence will help him a lot.”

Tivon wondered if anyone could help Braham and his conflicted feelings concerning his mother, but Tivon was all for trying if he could. He owed it to Braham as a friend to be there for him if he could. “Can you stay with Taimi and make sure nothing interrupts her work? It's important.”

“Absolutely. I'll send word if anything happens.”, Kas nodded eagerly, her eyes already mustering the various devices. She seemed in good spirits, considering what had happened with Jory. He figured that Jory was doing better.

“Thanks, Kas.” Tivon said and waved toward Taimi who was already busy with a screwdriver. She barely noticed and waved absent-mindedly (it looked more like a shooing motion), and Tivon left for Hoelbrak to see if Braham could indeed use his help or not.

 


	29. Summit Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it? I almost forgot to upload! Life keeps me very busy at the moment. Whew.  
> Anyway, this chapter is rather short. As will be the following ones until The Summit comes along. Ohh I am so excited! Next update on Sunday.  
> Now off you go and enjoy! *shoves you forward*
> 
> EDIT: 29/4/18. Added a completely ridiculous fighting scene, for all our enjoyment. Remember me mentioning I need to add more Vail and Kota? Whelp. Here it is. And gosh I giggled so hard imagining this.  
> ALSO: *deep breath* I try to describe the staff scenes as explicitly as possible because the motions are not always easy to follow; you are free to skip them, of course, but since I do some staff-swinging myself, I want to make sure you get what's going on.

“Hey. Good to see you back in Hoelbrak.”, a norn greeted him and Tivon lowered his head in a respectful, greeting gesture. Despite his changed appearance, the norn still knew him from the long time he had spend here, and many had heard the tale of how the Raven had gifted him Vail. The raven seemed more relaxed in the norn-homelands than anywhere else, and he cawed happily when they entered the front porch of Eir's homestead where Tivon was to meet both Braham and his mother, Eir.

The snow crunched beneath his feet, but his body barely sunk in. The homestead was up ahead on a small elevated hill, just beside the massive constructions of wood and platforms that made up Hoelbrak's market and their large halls.

“There you are.”, Braham grumbled and Tivon noticed the speckles of white in his hair, small flakes of snow that tangled in the fiery red. Despite the blowing wind and the baring cold Braham wore his usual leather- and pelt-adorned attire that left a long v-line of his chest bare, the tunic reaching only to the upper parts of his arms. His elbows were free, whereas the gloves covered his hands thickly. There was not even the hint of a shiver in Braham's body, not a single sign of cold.

“Did you think I'd abandon you?”, Tivon teased with a light smile, and Braham grinned back. This felt so much like all those months ago, back when their lives had been a little more simple, but chaos-ridden still.

“Never. Come on. Better get this over with.”

When they entered the homestead Tivon noticed it was cozy, pelts cushioning the wooden floor and a fire burning in the hearth that showered the interior in a dancing light. In the far back of the homestead was Garm, Eir's large wolf, curled in around itself on a large bear-pelt and both Vail and Kota were drawn toward Garm like magnets, joining the wolf in the corner. Garm lifted his head for only a moment and then nestled down again as Kota nuzzled in closer for warmth, and Vail settled on a small branch that hung from a string from the ceiling, dark intelligent eyes following every one of Tivon's movements.

“Hello, Mother.”, Braham greeted awkwardly, and he looked angry and anxious at the same time at the female norn that sat in front of the fire with a contemplative gaze. She turned around in surprise, barely having noticed them enter and rose.

“Braham! What a surprise.”, Eir murmured, and Tivon actually had to crane his neck to look at her. She had fiery red hair and norn cultural armor covering her body in fur and leather, yet however much these norn preferred a warm fire in their homes, they also preferred the sharp wind on skin, and it was because of this that the armor was revealing the tanned skin beneath. When Eir's eyes glanced toward him, she smiled. “Hello, old friend.”, she greeted him. “What are you doing here?”

To call him a friend was far-stretched, but perhaps befriending the Raven-spirit was worth such an honor. “We need to talk to you about something important.”, Braham cut in, but Tivon noticed the strange glance his friend threw his way in question. He made a mental note to tell Braham the story of where Vail came from.

“Let's sit down over here. We can talk in comfort.”, Eir gestured toward the fire and a large pelt that pillowed the ground, and Tivon and Braham settled down. When finally Eir did too, she continued. “All right. I can see by your faces that it's serious. Tell me. What is it?”

“An Elder Dragon, Mordremoth, has awakened.”, Tivon told her.

“It's already attacked two major forts—Fort Salma and Fort Concordia—and it's going after waypoints.”, Braham added before Eir could answer. “We've come to invite Knut Whitebear to a summit to discuss the threat.”

“No.”, Eir shook her head. “Whitebear won't attend anything like that. We have more than enough challenge with Jormag and the Sons of Svanir.”

“Surely there's something we can say to convince him.”, Tivon frowned and settled himself in a cross-legged position.

“You don't understand.”, Braham urged her impatiently and leaned closer toward Eir. “This is bigger than us. Jormag is dangerous, but it's only one member of a pack of Elder Dragons.”

Eir was calm. “I understand more than you think.”

Anger flickered in Braham's eyes, highlighted by the fire. “No, you don't.”, he hissed, and whatever closeness he had built it faltered and he leaned back, creating distance. “If you did, you'd know that Mordremoth's reach is spreading. Its tendrils are showing up all over the place.”

“The Elder Dragons each behave differently. We're only beginning to learn of Mordremoth's power.”, Eir said, and her voice was meant to be soothing, but Braham was already riled. “I just don't believe Whitebear would leave here while Jormag's threat looms. Furthermore, we're not responsible for "all over the place." We're responsible for our people. I just don't think Whitebear will leave Hoelbrak right now.”

“And by the time Mordremoth reaches Hoelbrak, it will be too late.”, Tivon said and leaned back, judging her reaction.

“And then, our people will have two dragons attempting to destroy us all.”, Braham continued. “We have to challenge the greatest threat first.”

“Right now, Mordremoth is wreaking the most damage upon Tyria.”, Tivon acceded Braham's point.

Eir leaned back, glancing between them. “Hm.”, she made with a contemplative frown. “If what you say is true, then this may be worth a discussion, at least.”

“So, you will speak with him about it?”, Tivon asked.

She did not answer immediately. “I know what would make Whitebear more like to attend your summit.”

“What's that?”, Braham asked.

“If he had fewer headaches, he'd be more inclined to leave Hoelbrak. The Sons of Svanir have been even more trouble lately.”, she murmured thoughtfully. “There's a group of them who've been killing and corrupting norn. If I could tell Whitebear we'd dealt them a serious blow, well... “, she trailed off, but Braham did not need to hear more. He rose to his feet, eyes glaring with determination.

“We'll take care of it.”

Eir looked up at him and slowly stood as well. When Tivon rose beside them he noticed how very small in comparison he was. “We should split up.”, Eir suggested and nodded toward Tivon. “You head straight to Frostgorge and find the totem. Braham and I will make our way there from the other side.”

Braham looked surprised. “You and me—“

“We won't be far away.”, Eir soothed, reading Braham's reaction as worry for Tivon, where Tivon only saw that Braham was partly appalled to be with his mother. “Whitebear will be all the more impressed if you deal with this alone. If you're successful, I'll speak to Whitebear myself.”

Braham cast Tivon a glance, only now worried, but Tivon waved it away. “Alright. Where do I need to go?”

“The Svanir have a base in the Highpeaks where they're raising a totem to Jormag.”

Tivon nodded and turned toward his companions. “Come on.”, he told Vail and Kota, and both of them looked up from where they had curled against Garm's belly. They hurried toward him, Kota's legs making soft clattering noises on the wooden floor and Vail's wings fluttering for a brief moment before the raven landed on his shoulder.

Tivon made for the door and was already out in the cold and the snow when Braham's hand curled around his arm, pulling him back slightly. “Hey.”, Braham said, lowly, and Tivon raised his eyebrow at him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course.”, Tivon said. “We need Whitebears support. If this gets us his aid-”

“No.”, Braham cut in and interrupted him. “I meant...with the whole machine. That was just yesterday. Are you sure you can handle this?”

Tivon was tempted to tell Braham of Mordremoth, of the Pale Tree's dwindling protection, of the voice of the Elder Dragon that he sometimes heard, but he decided against it. He would tell him – tell them, his friends – they deserved, no, _needed to know,_ but not now. “I can handle this.”, Tivon reassured him and Braham nodded, believing him. Perhaps he remembered the time at Fort Concordia, where Tivon had believed in _him_.

“Alright. If anything happens, I - “, he cut himself and corrected himself, “ _we'll_ be there.”

“I do not doubt it.”, Tivon said and then moved away, leaving Braham and Eir behind.

  
  


It took him hours of tracking footprints in the snow of Jormag's minions to find the location Eir had meant. The snow and wind were bellowing, and even though Tivon was hardened against the cold, he could feel the chill sink into his bark. The few leafs and vines curling around his body had frozen in place, covered in a thin sheet of ice and lying atop his skin, scrapping uncomfortably. Whenever he made a wider range of motion some of the ice would crack and fissure.

Tivon prowled around the area, ignoring the uncomfortable cold, snowflakes slowly sticking and staying atop his head, his body cooled down dangerously. He knew he had to keep moving, but the area beneath was too dangerous to approach recklessly.

It was a wide area, almost as large as Hoelbrak's market. The ground and slopes were covered in ice, slippery and glittering in the feint sunlight that occasionally pierced through the heavy clouds. The totem stood in the very middle, in range of all the camps of Jormag's minions, and Tivon was not quite sure how he was to invade and remain unseen.

He was laying on his stomach, glancing into the camp below. Each camp held a great number of Jormag's minions, the great blocks of ice not giving any impression of how many were housed in there.

As he waited to count his enemies, to see their lines of patrol, snow began to gather atop of him, covering him with white. He didn't mind; it would certainly help him to remain unseen. Behind him he heard Kota chirping happily, the crunching of snow an indication that the Karka was moving around. Tivon barely heard, eyes and head completely focussed, and Vail atop his shoulder was a silent and still guardian, completely in his element with his white feathers.

The minions of Jormag moved throughout the camp in routes and Tivon slowly saw the pattern. There was no single instance in which the totem was unsupervised. Shamans kept around it, staff at the ready, and even upon the one change of guard Tivon saw, the totem was still under guard. He counted six shamans around the totem and wondered why exactly it was protected so vehemently.

He considered shooting an arrow from the distance – perhaps that would be enough to shatter the totem. Despite the fact that it was rather far away, the wind was sometimes harsh and then soft, he also saw that when the Shamans exchanged their position that one of them cast a barrier around the totem. A glittering corona lifted into the air and then turned translucent, completely invisible to an untrained eye.

By the Pale Tree, this was certainly not easy. Storming in was no option; the whole camp would come and collapse on him. Surely Braham and Eir would rescue him, but that was not the point. This was a test of his abilities so that Eir could boast about him to Knut.

So, how?

Kota's chirp beside him startled him and he turned his head. He opened his mouth and reached out with his hand, “Kota!”, he called, but the Karka was already tumbling too close to the edge, the snow shifted and then fell away. The Karka rolled down the slope, making a surprised chirping noise that echoed.

The sudden added weight of Kota's body rolling down the slope had a cascading reaction and Tivon scrambled backwards, the snow before him drifting down in an avalanche. Kota was all but covered in snow, growing and growing into a large snowball and rolling down the slope.

Jormag's minions watched as the snowball formed, coming and drifting down the high, looming side of the adjacent mountains, and the avalanche of snow cascaded into the area, completely drowning two camps in snow.

Kota – or rather, a snowball at this point – rolled a bit further, the snow slowly falling away until it smacked against a crystal of ice that protruded from the ground, and all snow broke away in a crash of white.

The karka fought to find its balance and stumbled to its feet and chirped in confusion, staring up toward a minion of Jormag that stood right in front of him. There was a moment of silence in which Tivon held his breath. The whole camp seemed alight, minion's of Jormag storming out, expecting invasion and intruders, where there was only Kota standing among them.

The silence lasted. One second stretched, two..and then a commanding voice yelled something, and all Jormag's minions rushed toward where Kota stood, and the Karka startled, turned and ran from the many minion's that followed him, four , sharp legs carrying it faster over the ice than the soles of the minions.

Tivon watched in utter disbelief when half the camp followed Kota, leaving the totem protected only by the Shamans and a few remaining minions. He wanted to laugh out loud and rose, taking the opportunity. He grabbed his bow and swung his legs over the side, sliding down the ramp of sow the avalanche had created. Vail atop his shoulder took flight, shooting into the sky like a bolt of silver.

The minions that followed Kota were too far away, Even if they turned around now, they would not reach in time, and none of them even seemed to notice Tivon's approach. The shamans alone saw him coming and the one who raised his staff first was greeted with an arrow through the throat as Tivon slowly slithered down from the snow slope onto the ice covered ground. He launched his next arrow long before he had completely caught his balance and hit another Shaman in the chest, the third was surprised by Vail who came cutting down from the sky, claws scraping over the minion's ice covered face.

The ground was slippery even under Tivon's feet, and it did not help that he barely felt the ice under his soles and toes, but he kept going anyhow. He ran forward, launching another arrow and saw that one of Jormag's minions came running toward him, massive mace raised into the air. The minions swung at him and Tivon tilted backwards, let himself drop onto the ice and shot from below as he slid over the ice, arrow piercing beneath the minion's chin into its skull, making a resounding cracking noise when it landed.

Tivon barely noticed from the corner of his eyes that the minion stilled in its movements completely and fell face forward onto the eyes, fissuring it on impact. He pushed himself up from the ground onto his knee, his other leg extended in front of him to increase the friction and stop his velocity, his fingers curling around another arrow which he pulled forward in one swift movement and pulled into the string in less than a second.

The shaman was pointing the staff right into Tivon's face, and he could see the ice spell growing at the tip with bristling intensity, and the arrow shot into the shaman's chest, making the minion stumble backwards in surprise, the spell dying in a burst of white snowflakes.

Tivon lifted his arm to shield his eyes and then rose to his feet. The ground shook and Vail above him cried out in warning and Tivon turned to look over his shoulder where a massive norn approached, a greatsword larger in his hand than Tivon was tall. The swing came relentlessly and Tivon dropped his bow and brought his right hand over his right shoulder, the tip of his staff against his palm, while the other hand lowered toward the butt of the staff, pulling it from the holster of his back and pushing it away from his back, the sword crashing against the wood.

Tivon gripped the tip of the staff with his hand and brought it forward, causing the long end of his staff to make an arching motion away from his back, pushing the greatsword away and landing beneath the norn's chin. Tivon turned, still only holding the tip of his staff, and bringing it to swing over his side from below, but the norn had stumbled back and the staff only met air, momentum carrying to rest upon Tivon's right shoulder. He added his other hand at the tip of his staff and swung it over the side in a horizontal line before the norn had recovered, the butt of the staff cracking against the norn's skull.

The norn was thrown over to the side, blood dripping from the cracked open wound, greatsword clattering to the ice and leaving an eerie silence, but Tivon turned to the totem and swung the staff as hard as he could against the crackling ice. Each strike left fissures that grew and grew until finally, the fractures were large enough that the next strike shattered the totem completely. A burst of cold wind emitted from it and Tivon lifted his hands protectively, but the gust was gone as soon as it had come.

Slightly out of breath he turned to see that those minions from the other side of the camp had almost reached him and he picked up his bow and dashed toward the slope of snow, climbing upwards. He was light enough that he did not sink in quite as much as Jormag's minions did, and when the slope began to grow steeper he summoned small vines that protruded from the snow and ice, giving him leverage to pull himself up. When at last he reached the top he took a few steps back and swung his staff, letting the butt of his staff crack against the snow beneath his feet. The vines curled and churned beneath, causing the snow to shift and move once again, bringing a cascade of snow over those in pursuit. He heard their bodies tumble in the snow and carefully looked below and saw that the snow had all but washed them down.

Satisfied Tivon turned and stalked away toward the entrance of the large camp – the direction where Kota had disappeared, eyes searching over the area, squinting against the harsh blow of the wind. He felt much warmer now, his only discomfort in not knowing where Kota was – or if his companion was alright, but all his worry alleviated when he saw a bulge in the snow slowly coming toward him, and just when it was in front of him, Tivon reached down into the snow and unburrowed Kota and the Karka chirped happily.

“I'd scold you.”, Tivon told the Karka and gently brushed off pieces of snow. “But that was the best distraction I've ever seen.” Kota chirped in response and Tivon set him down, chuckling lightly. He heard the crunching of snow when two figures approached and he looked up to see Eir and Braham.

“I was right.”, Eir beamed at him. “You could handle it on your own. Now, I can relay this new legendary feat to Whitebear, and he'll be more inclined to agree to your summit. You've eased his burden.”

“Thank you.”, Tivon said and rose to his feet. “But I have to say no to your feast.”

“I'm disappointed, but we'll do it some other time. I'm going to guess that you have something important to do?” There was a mirthful smile at her lips. He had a feeling she knew exactly that his life was far from peaceful and that one event would inevitably drag him to the next, not allowing him a moment of rest.

“Yes. I'm meeting a friend near the Black Citadel.”

“Braham's friend Rox?”, Eir caught on. “I hear she's a good companion.”

“Yes, she is”, Tivon agreed, and Eir did not press.

“Very well. May you always walk with Wolf at your side.”

Vail crowed atop Tivon's shoulder as if in defiance that he was no wolf, and Eir chuckled. “Raven is a mighty companion to keep. Safe travels, old friend.”

Eir stalked away through the snow, Garm by her side, and they disappeared in the drifting of white snowflakes around them. “So, you know Eir?” Braham asked and Tivon turned his head toward him. There was conflict in Braham eyes and the hint of betrayal.

“Not personally.”, he explained. “Vail was a gift from the Raven. I spent a lot of time training him here with the norn. I believe I have met her before, but I was not consciously aware of who she was.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”, Braham murmured, and some tension eased from his broad shoulders. “I mean, I've heard the stories, but I never connected the Eir in the legends to the Eir who is my mother. Until today. She's...an avalanche.” He sounded almost in awe and his eyes trailed after where his mother had left.

“She has to be.”, Tivon said thoughtfully and scratched Vail's head when the raven pecked his cheek to gain attention. “She's had to move mountains.”

“I see that now.”, Braham continued, his voice low. Memories of a childhood questioning his roots, the love of parents, it all flashed behind his eyes, so clear that Tivon saw them flicker and fade away. “I'm starting to understand why she left.”

Tivon knew that Braham was thinking the same. “You can't move mountains with a child on your back.”

Braham nodded. “If anyone can convince Knut Whitebear to attend the summit, it's her. We norn have been loners for too many winters. I don't see how we can continue to hunt alone. Not with the Elder Dragons awake.”

“With the Pact as a shining example it should be but child's play to show Tyria how strong our combined forces are.”, Tivon agreed. “Let us hope that Whitebear comes to the same conclusion.”

“You are headed for the Citadel now?”, Braham inquired, and Tivon could heard the, _Do you want me to accompany you?_ Loud and clear.

“I told Rox I'd help her.”, Tivon murmured, his footsteps barely leaving a print in the snow. Kota on the other hand struggled to keep his body from sinking into the white depths and was fished out by an annoyed Braham after a couple of tries and carried beneath his arm. “If Rytlock attempts to have her head for disobeying his order, I'd rather be there to alleviate the charges. And possibly help her escape.”

“I doubt he will.”, Braham shrugged. “Something tells me he didn't want her in the Stone Warband.”

“You mean because he kept her away for so long? Proving herself to him time and time again?” Because Tivon had had the very same feeling.

“Yeah.”, Braham grumbled. “Maybe that Tribune knew she'd be happier as a gladium. I dunno.”

“She's part of our team.”, Tivon agreed. “And our friend.” They stood awkwardly by the asura gate and Braham put Kota down again. The karka hurried toward Tivon's side and promptly sank down into the snow, disappearing from sight for a brief second. Tivon fished him out and placed him on more even ground.

“So I'll head back to the ley-line hub, yeah?”, Braham asked, a chuckle erupting from his throat at Kota's misadventure.

“You do that.”, Tivon said and before Braham nodded and turned around, Tivon stopped him one last time. “And Braham?”

“Hm?”, the norn made against the bellow of the wind and blinked over his shoulder, snowflakes tangling in his hair and brow.

“Don't kill Phlunt.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, eh? Let's hope Braham doesn't lose his temper. :3


	30. Plan of Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla people! I rewrote some parts of this chapter like two minutes ago. Thank god I checked it. It's infinitely better now, believe me. (You have no choice but to, but ah well :D )  
> I'll get to editing "Summit Invitations" right after this.  
> My weekend is so packed this time, you guys have no idea, but up until now, I am enjoying every minute of it, and I would not have it any other way. *sighs happily*  
> Anyway, enjoy the ghost-bashing variety of Tivon's adventure!

When Tivon arrived he saw Rox pacing back and forth, her tail wagging behind her. “I'm glad you're here. I was dreading having to do this without backup. I sent Tribune Brimstone a mail asking if he would forward our summit invitation to Smodur.”

“And his response was to order you to meet in person?”, Tivon concluded.

“Yeah.”, Rox grumbled dejectedly and fumbled with a piece of leather from her armor in nervous apprehension that she tried to hide and failed. “No way around it now. This is too important a cause. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I don't want to see his disappointment in me.” She started to walk and Tivon walked abreast.

“He has nothing to be disappointed about. You did what you had to do.”, he soothed.

“And I'd do it again, to save Braham—or any of you.”, she stated with determination. “No one is dispensable. Not even for the glory of taking down Scarlet.”

“He'll understand that. He's lost people too.”, Tivon reasoned.

“Thanks.”, Rox said and took a deep breath. “I needed to hear that. Let's get this over with, okay?”

He nodded. “Let's do it.”

Entering the presence of Rytlock Brimstone was no easy affair. The charr that commanded obedience with his very glare, and the one swish of his tail when Rytlock's eyes stared at Rox was almost like the threatening swing of a sharp blade. “Well, Rox.”, his deep voice grumbled unwelcoming and he erected himself, hunched back straightening. “You're actually showing your face. That shows courage, considering what you're here for.”

“Tribune?”, Rox asked uncertainly and came to a halt in front of her former superior.

“You want me to talk the Imperator into attending your summit, and yet, you disobeyed my order to end Scarlet.”, Rytlock dead-panned, as if she had dared asking him for favors when she'd done nothing to deserve them.

“I...ahem...”, Rox cleared her throat, but to her credit, she held his stern gaze. “I had to make a battlefield decision, Tribune.”

“If it hadn't been for the Commander, Scarlet would still be out there murdering people and ruining Tyria one step at a time.”, Rytlock growled, and Rox ducked her head.

“Yes, Tribune.”

There was a moments pause, and then, “At ease, soldier. Excuse me while I discuss this with someone I know I can rely on.” Words sometimes were more painful than any weapon, and Tivon could see the dejection in Rox's face, but she hid it quickly with an inclination of her head. She retreated a few steps backwards and then turned away, leaving him to deal with Rytlock alone.

“You are that leafy-head from back then.”, Rytlock frowned at him, looking him over. When Tivon didn't even flinch and waited patiently for the inspection to be over, he almost expected something among the lines of _You've changed, why?,_ but instead Rytlock grumbled, “I can see it in your eyes. You don't have to defend Rox, you know?”

Tivon had met Rytlock only the once, back in a time where the molten alliance had wrecked parts of the Diessa Plateau and he had volunteered to help Rox fend them off. “She is part of my team, and my friend.” Tivon answered levelly, and the dark fur around Rytlock's mouth's edges twitched.

“I know. I'm rough on her, but somebody has to be. She's too soft inside. She'd have been dead long ago if I hadn't toughened her up.”, Rytlock shrugged and gestured for him to follow. The black citadel was true to her name; a city made from blackened metal and wires and pipes, all hurdled and nailed together to create a fitting whole.

“Are you going to punish her for not killing Scarlet?”, Tivon asked as he followed Rytlock.

“Nah. I understand why she did it.”, Rytlock shrugged. “Besides, she's a free agent now. She and I don't need to see eye to eye anymore. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not gonna give her grief when she needs it.”

“What does that mean exactly?”, Tivon frowned. Charr society was filled with military settings and strict rules that Tivon had never truly understood, but he'd seen the cruelty of pushing a Charr into the status of a gladium. He'd seen the charr under such a status succumb under that social pressure and disregard when he'd hatched Kota in the steamy, warm quarters that were differentiated from all other districts.

The Tribune looked at him, considering the question. It seemed like he only realised now that Tivon was a sylvari and not a charr. “Ask her.”, Rytlock answered curtly. “All I can say is that I'm not responsible for her anymore. Anything she screws up doesn't reflect on me. She's on her own.”

“She told you why we're here?”, Tivon asked carefully.

“Not much. In her mail she mentioned something about how you want Imperator Smodur to attend some strategic gathering?”

Tivon nodded, even if there was information that Rox has left out. It was important that Mordremoth was the cause of this summit, that they would have to work together. Considering how powerful Mordremoth already was, it was a blessing they had time to waste on trivial matters such as settling the word leaders in to assure they come to the summit. “We need you to talk to him for us.”

Rox seemed to have listened in, because she joined back into the conversation. “Tribune, we also have information that will interest you and Imperator Smodur. It's about the Elder Dragons.” 

“I know.”, Rytlock snarled, eyes sharp like the weapons on his waist when Rox approached. “Word's reached me that Mordremoth is active.” That certainly took some weight from Tivon's shoulders.

“That's an understatement.”, Rox continued, undeterred by his tone. “It's been destroying entire forts. We're not sure how far it can reach. The Black Citadel...”

She did not get to finish. “...has enough to worry about with Branded and Ascalonian Ghosts.”,Rytlock finished for her instead. “And if that's not enough, it takes everything else we've got to keep the Flame Legion off our ramps.”

“Before you know it, you'll be adding Mordremoth to that list.”, Tivon argued and Rytlock glared at him, too. Tivon wondered if perhaps it was just Rytlock's face.

“Tribune, the Branded are contained to one region. Mordremoth is quickly spreading across all of Tyria. It has already reached as far as Timberline Falls and Kessex Hills. It's sending tendrils outward, underground, growing like a malicious vine.”

Rytlock considered this, drawing furred eyebrows together in thought. “If that's true, then the Shiverpeaks will block it. I don't see how it could go through solid rock. We'll be protected.”

“It'll come through the Fields of Ruin.”, Tivon told him. “But there's another cost to ignoring it.”

“That's right.”, Rox took over. “What happens to us if everyone else's armies are destroyed because we charr kept to ourselves? We have to stand together.”

“And we have to take on the greatest threat first. That's Mordremoth.”, Tivon added.

Rytlock growled once again like a boxed-in cat. “You don't have to tell me how dangerous Elder Dragons are. But convincing me and convincing Imperator Smodur are two different things.”

“There must be something we can do to convince him.”, Tivon urged.

“As a matter of fact, that's why I asked you to come in person. I carry Sohothin, my blade. It's said to have the power to reverse the Foefire.”, Rytlock explained.

Rox raised an eyebrow. “Is that true or just a myth?”

Rytlock bared his talons in a toothy grin. “I plan to test it. After years of research, I've finally found the proper combination of elements to unlock the sword's power.”

Rox caught up on Rytlock's plan. “You could rid us of all the ghosts?”

“That's the idea.”, Rytlock nodded. “We do that, and Smodur will have less to worry about. Then we can convince him to attend the summit. I've researched the ritual, and I learned a lot about Ascalonian history. This story began a thousand years ago, when this ritual was first formulated by the humans' gods—the Six. The Six gave them magic. At the same time, they also gave one of them a magical crown and two magical swords to protect the kingdom.”

Tivon remembered some of the history. “Sohothin and Magdaer. And King Adelbern had inherited the crown?”

Pleased, Rytlock nodded “Exactly. The crown was designed to break into four parts. When the fragments are separated, they're hard to see. This was a safeguard to keep this powerful item from falling into the wrong hands.”

“And the crown is required for the ritual?”, Tivon inquired.

“It is. When Adelbern enacted the ritual with Magdaer, he became a ghost. But the crown was preserved and found by charr who entered the area later. They toyed with it, and the fragments were lost.”

“And you found them?”

“I found one.”, Rytlock corrected, and his eyes pierced Tivon's. “I'm asking you to find the others. The fragments work like magnets to each other. Once you have one, you'll feel a pull towards the others.“

“Even after all this time, you're sure they're here?”, Tivon frowned and took the strange piece of metal the Tribune reached out toward him. The item seemed unremarkable, not at all magical, least of all important. It was weathered, the metal already so old and worn it had all gleam and spark. The edges that gave way to the impression that it had been part of a crown once were dulled at the edges, and the jewels embedded in their sockets were either missing or loosening.

“I'm hopeful. We need the crown to perform the ritual. Might as well assume they're there.”

Tivon slowly nodded. “Then I'll go find the crown fragments. Rox can help you get set up.”

“I could go with you, you know.”, Rox interjected with a frown, turning her body toward him, and Frostbite chirped in agreement.

“I'll be able to track them.”, Tivon told her. “I'll be back before you know it.”

“You're confident.”, she murmured and sighed. There had been so many times in the past where she and Braham had no chance at all of holding Tivon in one place; he'd always been jumpy, eager, and confident, and that, at least, had not changed even after everything. She wouldn't put a stop to it now. “Alright. Take care, Tiv.”, she yielded with a smile.

“You too.”

  
  


The crown fragments were little, old rusted and bent pieces of metal that had been easier to find than Tivon would have thought. Just as the Tribune had said, one fragment had led him to the others, and now that he had collected them all he returned to the site where Rytlock would start to perform his ritual.

They were waiting for him and he recognized Rox's familiar broad back first, then Rytlock, and there was another charr that Tivon didn't know standing with the three. Other Charr were around them, standing at the ready.

“You made it.”, Rytlock grumbled when he saw Tivon approach and took the fragments from his hands. “Not that I doubted you for a minute.”, The praise did not leave him untouched and he barely managed to keep the surprise from his features. “Have you met Imperator Smodur?”

Smodur' fur was brighter than Rytlocks, but the Charr was talle, or perhaps it was because he stood straighter. He wore plate that covered every part of his bod except his hands and feet, the claws protruding sharply. The horn were angled over his head, almost meeting, and a giant shield poked into sight from behind his back. “I know you by reputation”, Smodur grumbled in a deep voice, eye meeting Tivon's. “I've also received your request. If this mission eliminates even a portion of the enemy, I will attend your summit.” He was about to utter words of thanks when Smodur turned away. “What's the plan, Brimstone?”

“It all hinges on Sohothin, my sword.”, Rytlock began. “There were originally two of them—Sohothin and another called Magdaer. They were given to the Ascalonian as protection against invasion. A couple hundred years ago, Sohothin was wielded by Rurik, son of King Adelbern. He was killed by a Stone Summit dwarf. It came into my care several years ago.”

“How did you get it?”, Tivon wondered aloud.

“Irrelevant.”, Rytlock snapped. “Point is that its partner, Magdaer, is the sword Adelbern used to curse the Ascalonians. I've long suspected that Sohothin is the blade that can break the curse. I've had my snout buried in scrolls and books at the Priory. One of the scholars there has been helping me tack together the history. I finally found a reference to the ritual. It's got an Orrian stamp on it, which makes it so old, it's got to be legitimate. In any case, I have to try. If it works, we'll be free. Once we're inside, we need to channel ghost essence into the sword to fire it up. That means slashing a lot of ghosts.”

“And on the other side of that gate, we've got ghosts building up, just waiting for us to come through. I hope their essences can charge Sohothin.”, Rox murmured. “How do you know this will work?”, she asked directed at Rytlock.

“It'll work...because I said so.”, Rytlock snarled.

“You're on point, Brimstone.”, Smodur's voice cut through, and Rytlock obeyed.

“Yes, sir.”, Rytlock said and took the lead. They descended down an old pair of stone stairs into the tomb, carefully guiding their steps over the cracks and fissures of the stone. Spiderwebs covered the ceiling and the sides, oscillating in a wind neither of them felt. Tivon heard the charr behind him bring a torch to life and the darkness parted somewhat, leaving their figures to cast dancing and moving shadows along the walls. The deeper they moved in, the colder and more bitter the air seemed to become. Something heavy lay in the air, a feeling that made Tivon's skin bristle with anticipation and wary. If he had been alone, this feeling alone would have been imperial enough to have him turn around, and he saw that the Charr looked just as apprehensive as he felt.

The steps lead down, down, _down_. It felt like half an eternity until they met even ground again, a normal room covered in dust that whirled up underneath their feet, Sarcophagi left and right, standing out in the open, and resting places carved into the stone. Plates told of who had been put to rest here, but Tivon did not dare divert from his companions. 

The eerie silence fell over them almost like a hammer bash, sudden and strict. There was a small swoosh of wind and then he heard it. Moaning, groaning, and a loud, wailing scream. They all turned around, and from the sarcophagi came blue essence like a mist, circling and weaving into the air and slowly coming into translucent form, a female human ascolonian with a stern face. “Leave!”, she screeched, and before they had time to answer, she attacked.

Tivon had thought the charr had exaggerated their tales of ghosts and their infestation of this land. He had difficulty wrappinng his head around the idea that so many stages of after-life should exist, that beside ghost-curses and bringing the dead back to life to serve, he now knew there were many other unimaginable horrors that could await after death.

_Death should be final,_ he thought in dismay when the ghosts came through the walls, from passages at the side and the fight took full effect. His staff collided with the ghostly forms, and he managed to make them disappear if he tore a wound through the body. But they were not gone. He could feel their essences drift into the air, swirling and retreating, to recover and then return – it was endless that way, and entirely unfair.

All because of a curse? All because of an all-too-proud king who had refused victory? To not give the Charr the land that had been theirs? 

It left a bitter taste in Tivon's mouth to send the ghosts back, only to know they would return. A human male came rushing toward him, sword clashing against his staff when he raised it just in time, and the ghosts looked at him with such wrath and  _hatred_ Tivon shivered. He gripped the human's neck with his free hand and sent a short, piercing thorn through it from his palm. The ghost made a strangled, choking noise and disappeared, all sensation disappearing from Tivon's fingers.

“The tomb is just ahead.”, Rytlock called after Sohothin cast a flaring arc through the room, cutting through the torso of the last ghost. The charr erected himself and took the lead once more, and Tivon cast Rox a glance, but she had her eyes on the Tribune. “That's where we'll test the Foefire cleansing. It's a place of power.”

“I guess there's no turning back once we step through that arch, huh?”, Rox murmured, Frostbite chittering beside her, her bow tightly in her hands.

“You prefer to go back to the fahrar, cub?”, Ryltock asked in a growl, and Rox immediately stood a bit taller and shook her head.

“No, sir!”

Stepping through the stone arch Tivon lifted his arm to push away some of the spiderwebs that covered the stone, his eyes gazing over the tomb. There was a statue at the far back of a human man, nearly towering toward the ceiling. It looked alive with the depth of its carving and its slightly leaned forward posture, the large hammer in its grasp looking large and mean. Its gaze was upon them when they entered, and the eyes seemed to follow them around, but Tivon could not see it moving. It was...unnerving.

“I hope this works.”, Rytlock murmured, more to himself, as he positioned himself in the very center of the tomb, barely even minding the presence of the statue. Perhaps Tivon would grow to be nonchalant as well if he had to fight them day in and out. Perhaps the Charr would shrink away at the horrors the Nightmare Courtiers could bring.

Rox spat on the ground with a loud, wet noise, and when everyone turned their heads toward her she shrugged, “For luck.”

Rytlock chuckled. “You used to do that when you were a cub. C'mon, let's get this over with.” The tomb felt more alive than it had before, and Tivon could hear the defiant screams of the dead in the distance, as if they were screaming at them from throughout the tomb.

“Something's happening.”, Rox murmured, the grip on her bow tight as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. “These ghosts don't seem to like your sword very much.”

“They're going to like it even less in a few minutes.”, Rytlock said grimly. Tivon saw the movement from the corner of his eyes at first and turned his head, and there, then, the statue _did_ move. “Damn! They're possessing what's left of Barradin's statue.”, Rytlock cursed.

“Someone once told me nothing worth fighting for is ever easy.”, Rox said over the rocking of stone and the sudden crashing noises that came from the statue as it lifted and erected itself.

“Ha! You do listen.”, Rytlock grinned, and Rox grinned back.

“Only when I feel like it.”

Tivon was relieved to see that the statue could not move freely. It was partly attached to the wall behind it, but its long arms and hammer reached far enough to keep him on his feet. It swung the hammer over the ground, unable to reach where Rytlock was, and Tivon made an inrun and jumped over, his free left hand pushing against the hammer beneath to gain a bit more height, his legs in the air. For a fleeting moment he felt as if he was flying and then gravity brought him back down again, the hammer swishing underneath him and away, the danger passed. His left foot landed on the other side first and he used the momentum to bring the staff around in an arc from over his right, upper side, turned on the ball on his feet, the circling motion of his staff turning into and upper swing as he turned, tip pointing toward where the statue's hammer had crashed into the far wall.

Vines shot from the ground, breaking and cracking the stone-ground open, piercing forward and crashing into the far wall, weaving and knotting over the statue's arm and hammer, effectively trapping it there in a net of vines and thorns. The statue growled loudly, eyes glaring over its shoulder toward where he stood, and Tivon gulped.

The... _wrath_ in those eyes. As if Tivon was responsible for their misery. 

Rox looked over toward him, her eyes gleaming with...was it pride? Awe? “We won't have to worry about that one.”, Rox grinned at him. 

“The vines won't hold forever.”, he told her truthfully. The statue naturally struggled against the containing vines, and Tivon fought to keep his magic there. He could scarcely believe how much _power_ that statue possessed. One punch from it would turn even the most trained charr into a pulp.

“Sohothin is charged with the ghosts' power.”, Rytlock yelled over the fighting, and when Tivon glanced over toward the Charr, he could see Kota and Vail in the fray, helping the other charr keep the ghosts at bay. “Let's see how effective this is.”

The statue tried to free it's arm more ferociously and Tivon lifted his staff, pushing it in the vine's direction. The vines ached and creaked under the pressure and Tivon poured more magic into them, held the arm in place and the statue screamed, but Rytlock did not even lift his gaze.

Rytlock lifted Sohothin into the air and then plunged it tip first into the stone. The stone fissured, cracks drifting out toward the sides and Rytlock jumped backwards in surprise, his dark eyes mustering the magic at work.

An eerie blue glow filled the fissures, glowing and shining from within, casting long shadows throughout the tomb and suddenly the stone began to fall away from the edges, down into the light. Sohothin spun in mid air, hovering for a moment longer before it too plunged into the depths.

“I have to go after it. Without it, we'll never end this war!”, Rytlock yelled and before any of them could protest, the Tribune jumped into the air after Sohothin. Rox made a strange strangled noise in her throat and attempted to run and jump after Rytlock, and Tivon lifted his free arm through gritted teeth and held her back with a rather weak vine that curled around her wrist.

It stopped her just in time. The vine held as she moved forward and she was pulled back, a surprised noise escaping her throat, and she caught her balance before falling. The fissures suddenly snapped closed in front of her eyes, the stone reappearing, and everything mended and fell back in its designated place. Except there was no sign of either Sohothin or Rytlock.

“I need to go after him!”, Rox insisted vehemently and tried to lift her arm and noticed the vine curling around her wrist and looked up at Tivon, the urgency in her gaze making him wonder if he had made the right decision at all. The statue suddenly stopped struggling and Tivon could breathe freely again and lifted his magic, watching the statue tentatively for a few second before he let the vines fall to dust.

“The portal is closed.” Smodur dead-panned. “You can't.”

“But—“, Rox began to protest, but Smodur would not let her.

“Stand down, soldier.”, he ordered and then added more softly, “He'll be fine. If anything, I'd be worried for the poor souls that get in his way. This is his mission, not yours.”

“What exactly is going on?”, Tivon asked and stood beside Rox, searching her features, but it was Smodur who answered.

“Happened fast, didn't it?”, Smodur chuckled. “Brimstone failed the Foefire cleansing, and lost Sohothin to the Mist in the process. Without that sword, he can't complete the ritual. He had to pursue it.”

“He took a lot of ghosts with him.”, Tivon noticed. The statue was lifeless once again, and the chill of the ghosts that had descended upon them had lifted. This place was permeated with an eerie feeling of afterlife, death magic and death itself and all of it made the fibres in Tivon's body crawl.

“I noticed.”, Smodur nodded. “He may not have ended the curse, but he had an effect. And you played a pivotal role.”, Smodur's eyes glanced over toward where the statue's arm had frozen against the far wall, where it had been trapped by Tivon's magic. “I'll come to your summit for that reason alone.”

“Even after the cleansing failed?”, Tivon asked surprised. Phlunt would have taken that as reason enough not to go, but then again, Smodur most definitely was _not_ Phlunt.

“This cleansing's not over.”, Smodur answered. “Brimstone's dedication to his duty will bring him back. The least I can do is honor his commitment by attending the summit.”

“Thank you.”, Tivon said and bowed his head. “I'll meet you there, Imperator.”

Smodur nodded, glanced once more at where Rytlock had disappeared, and then started walking back the way they had come, taking the other charr that had accompanied him with him.

“Are you all right?”, Tivon asked Rox as he stepped beside her. She was still staring at where the fissure into the mists had opened with a forlorn look in her eyes.

“I will be.”, she murmured and lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “My heart is still hammering. I just have to keep telling myself that he'll be fine. He's been in bigger scrapes. Still...” She did not finish that sentence.

“I...am sorry. For holding you back. It was not my place to make such a decision.”, Tivon apologized, and Rox shook her head.

“No, you were right to. Smodur's right. This isn't my mission. My mission is to make the summit work and to stop Mordremoth with you. At least the imperator has agreed to come to the summit. That's one consolation.”, she took a deep breath. “So, Phlunt hasn't backed out? What about Queen Jennah?”

“Phlunt's waiting on Taimi's device. Kasmeer's convinced the queen to come.”

Rox looked unsure and then, after a long pause, she asked, “Tiv, what if they don't come? What if no one comes?”

Tivon placed a hand atop her shoulder and squeezed. “They must.”, he told her. “And if they do not, we will do all that which is within our power to stop Mordremoth.”

She nodded, if only slowly, and the many luck charms around her neck chimed in. “Alright. Yeah.”, she said and took a deep breath. “We have to.”

Before he could start what he was about to say next, there was a loud clatter and the breaking of stone and they both turned around, startled.

“Frostbite!”, Rox rebuked, and the devourer looked up almost innocently from where it had buried Kota beneath a pile of rocks. The Karka made a displeased noise from beneath and burst forth, scattering rocks and dust everywhere. Rox chuckled and shook her head. “We have to.”, she said again, and this time it sounded like she meant it, her eye focussed on her pet, and when Tivon followed her gaze toward Kota, he understood why.

They all had something to fight for. For family, for friends, for loved ones, or for the very world itself, and it did not matter if they had to do it alone.

They had to.

 


	31. Party Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! Hello there! It's time again for another chapter! Time for some more bonding between Tivon and his friends or to-be-friends! :3  
> Enjoy!

_Dear Tivon,_

_I hope this finds you well._

_I'm afraid my efforts to get the queen to the summit haven't gone as smoothly as expected. The queen has had a situation arise that may prevent her from attending. I'll give you the full details when you arrive, but the short version is that someone is spreading rumors that Queen Jennah not only met with evil Scarlet prior to the Queen's Jubilee celebration, but also conspired to give Scarlet the mechanical watchknights. This is, of course, ridiculous. But the queen can't leave Divinity's Reach until those rumors are squelched._

_Countess Anise has suggested that I use my intuitive ability to find the cad spreading the rumors and discredit them. But, I don't want to do this alone. Will you come help me?_

_Your friend,_

_Kasmeer._

  
  


“So.”, Tivon said and craned his neck to take in all the decoration some festivity had invited. “Not going so smoothly?”

Kas gave him an apologetic smile. “Let me catch you up on what's happening: Queen Jennah can't attend the summit because someone has accused her of conspiring with Scarlet. The hearing is the same day. Someone's lying, and we have to figure out who. Soon as we know, we can confront that person and get them to recant their statement. We need to talk to everyone, find clues to the truth, and build evidence to defend the queen. Once we discover who among them is the mastermind, we'll take action. But be careful. The people are suspicious and sensitive. Say something too blunt or off-putting, and they'll clam up. If we're obviously undermining their plans, they'll have us escorted out of the party, and it will all have been for nothing.”

“Kas.”, Tivon interrupted. “I...am not sure how I am supposed to help.”

She beamed at him. “You are a natural.”, she encouraged as they strode through the stone arch toward the herald. “You'll be fine.”

He was not quite so sure. “I am just not sure I am the one to help you seek out lies. Give me a track and I'll be able to follow it through waters of grey, but this...”

She gestured toward the pathway, her heels clanking over the paved stone. She was wearing an even more brilliant dress that was white and seemed of such thin and light fabric that it rustles and moved with every tiny movement or brush of wind, hugging her pale, long legs. “They are human ministers and family. Politicians, mostly.”, she explained, and her gaze wandered over the whole garden that had been prepared magnificently. The brushes and trees had been cut cleanly into shapes and forms, as well as decorated with colorful ribbons and golden bells that chimes ever so softly. Large umbrellas made for shelter against the sun, and every human that Tivon saw looked more extravagant than the next.

A human woman passed by in a pink dress with a hat full of pea-cock feathers, her husband (Or so he assumed) taking her arm in stride, chest puffed out against a marine dark tuxedo that looked terribly restricting.

The scent of food was in the air, various sweets as well as savory dishes, there was laughter and chatter, and among all the merry and the mirth, Tivon noticed that he was cast wary glances. Perhaps he should have left his weapons behind. Even Kas did not have a weapon with her, not where Tivon could see, at least.

Among the decorations, the dresses, the curtsies and politeness, among the estranged glances and the raised eyebrows, he felt like he was neither welcome, nor truly expected to stay. “It is...strange.”, Tivon admitted and Kas came to a halt. He noticed that she was wearing an easy bland, smile, but he could not tell if it was true or fake. If it was the latter, he knew she was faking it for those around them, not because of him.

“What is?”, she asked kindly.

“Humans?”, Tivon said carefully and in a low tone. He did not mean to offend anybody, least of all his friend. “I find your society very peculiar.”

Kas laughed. “For me, it's the same with sylvari, although I must admit, there are some...similarities. Other than the obvious.”

“The obvious?”, he asked curiously and she gestured over his form with a graceful movement of her hand.

“It is said that the sylvari were shaped as botanic humanoids, in _our_ image. Some human's find that disgraceful, others curious.”

“And what about you, lady Kasmeer?”, Tivon asked and could not hide his smile. If they had not been at the party, perhaps she would have lightly punched his shoulder, but here she only chuckled. Just like the man in the tight tuxedo, she too was restricted in her actions, in her freedom. 

“I'm intrigued.”, she smiled. “This will not be any trouble, I promise you. They will treat you kindly.” She gestured with her chin toward the herald. “They'll introduce us at the steps.”

“Ahem.”, the herald made when he saw the two of them approach. It was a human male wearing a masquerading mask and a bright, white tunic that reflected some of the sunlight from glittering patterns itched into the satin. “Introducing a guest of Countess Anise, the sylvari Tivon, and accompanying, the La—ah, ahem, yes, Kasmeer Meade.”

“Keep it together, Kas. You can get through this. Be confident, like Jory.”, Kas beside him whispered and he cast her a glance, but dared not speak until they had passed by the herald and onto the steps.

“Are you alright?”, he asked. “This can not be easy for you.”

She gave him a warm smile, but he saw the effort it took for her to overlook that her title had been taken – and the history behind it. “I appreciate your worry, Tivon. I'll be fine.”

Tivon came to a halt in the middle of the stairs and turned fully toward her. “These people do not know you.”, he told her. “But I – _we_ do. You will always be a lady to me, title or no.”

He saw the tears rise into her eyes and she blinked them bravely away, gulping down the emotions that constricted her throat for a moment. “...Thank you.”, she whispered. “I needed to hear that.”

Tivon smiled and gently touched her arm, but his next words were interrupted when a voice from atop the stairs came.

“Kasmeer!” Tivon blinked up against the sun and the marble steps and recognized the woman from the Pavillion. Countess Anise. “Come over here. Don't look so glum.”, the Countess ordered with a smile and Kas obliged. Countess Anise wore a robe of royal blue that accentuated her curves, the lipstick coloring her mouth red. Tivon couldn't help but remember that red was nature's sign for danger. “Hello, dear Kasmeer. Don't worry your little face over what the herald's papers say. You'll always be noble in my eyes.”

“Countess Anise.”, Kas greeted with a curtsy, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “That's direct...and kind of you to say. I'm afraid I don't feel particularly noble.”

“Then we must do something about that!”, Anise smiled cheerfully. “Nobility isn't in the blood, as so many believe. It's in your choices. Your return to grace is only a pardon away. If your talent for detecting lies is all you say it is...”, she paused, a playful smile on her lips. “Well, let's just say I'm confident we can convince the queen your value overrides your father's misfortune.”

“I only hope to be of some small service, Countess.”, Kas replied humbly. The Countess seemed pleased.

“Now please, mingle and enjoy yourself. I have another place to be.” She disappeared up the last pair of steps behind a pillar with the clacking of her heels and Kas looked nervous, straightening the hem of her dress with a brush of her hand.

“Oh dear. Okay.”, she murmured and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let's start picking apart everything they say. One of these ministers is spreading lies about the queen.” It sounded more like she was talking to herself rather than him, as if she was refocussing her head. He didn't try to interject himself and turned his head toward a strangely familiar voice that reached his ears from somewhere above.

“Don't misunderstand, Countess—I'm certainly grateful to you for purchasing my billet and putting me to work.”, the voice said and Tivon frowned as he moved up the steps and Kas followed him, catching the hem of her dress with her hands. As he noticed the secondborn, Canach, who continued to speak, “I'm just not sure I understand the reasoning behind dragging me to this soiree of yours.”, the secondborn was saying, hands folded in front of his broad chest, eyes gliding dismissively over the other guests.

“Mm?”, the Countess Made, barely even noticing the Secondborn, and Canach sighed.

“I think I know where to start.”, Kas said and her eyes were cast toward a couple of nobles that were chatting lively, whom Tivon couldn't even have guessed the names of. When she turned back toward him her knowing smile was encouraging. “I'll go gather some leads.”

“Are you sure you're-”, Tivon began and she held up her hnd to stop him the middle of taking a step toward her.

“I'm fine. You being here at all is already a great relief.”

There was nothing Tivon could do but nod. “If you need me-”

“I know where to find you.”, she finished for him and sauntered off, her steps brimming with confidence. He watched her go and shook his head with a smile before he looked over his shoulder to where Canach stood, and noticed that the warrior had been staring at him intently with narrowed and suspicious eyes. For a moment Tivon felt like Canach was assessing if he was a danger or not, and then, the realization dawned upon the secondborn's face when Tivon approached him.

“You.”, Canach said, just as Tivon came to a halt before him. “Careful there. You don't want to be seen getting too friendly with the staff.”

“Why are you here?”, Tivon asked. Last time he had spoken with Canach seemed like a lifetime ago, back in Lion's Arch just before Scarlet had struck.

“I'm on the job. Bodyguard for a countess. A somewhat more glamorous position than my last, I must say.”, Canach replied, but he did not sound pleased. Then again, when did he ever.

“You mean your position as a prisoner?”, Tivon clarified, and Canach rolled his eyes at the subtlety of his words.

“Yes, and thanks for stating the obvious, painful truth.”, he sounded almost annoyed. “Technically, I'm still a prisoner. It's just now my bars are lined with velvet. Don't let that fool you though. I'm definitely not free.”

“The countess owns you now?”, Tivon asked and gave the Countess a glance, but she seemed...distracted. Her eyes were distant as if lost in thought, even though a smile played on her lips. It took Tivon a moment before he realized that she was not real, that it had to be an illusion.

“That's harsh. I wouldn't say that.”, Canach objected, as if insulted. “More like I'm on loan to her from the prison. So long as I'm a good grunt, she'll keep me with her and I don't have to go back in the cell.”

“You plan on behaving yourself?”, Tivon continued his inquiry. Even though Canach had been responsible for so much misery at Southsun Cove, he wondered what he'd done if he had been in the secondborn's shoes. Finding and talking to him here gave the place a feeling of home, of the Grove, and despite Canach's many attempts to be unpleasant, he was good company.

“Absolutely. I'm no fool. I could be in a much worse situation than this. I guess you could say I learned my lesson. I know I have a reputation for acting rashly, but those days are behind me.” Canach was looking away, somewhere else but Tivon's eyes, arms tightening around his chest. A stance showing he did not care whether Tivon believed or did not, and dared him to say so.

“I believe you.”, Tivon said and Canach opened his mouth, looked surprised and then closed it again. Clearly the secondborn had expected something different, had been ready to argue. Now Canach narrowed his eyes, taking him in.

“Pardon my curiosity,” Canach said, “I could not help but notice the change.”

“I am Soundless.”, Tivon told him. “I have cut myself off from the Pale Tree and the other sylvari.”

“And why, pray tell, would one do such a thing? Was the burden of the Dream too much for you? Are you seeking to redefine yourself? What other drivel is there?”, Canach snarled, nearly spat out the words as if Tivon's state was something weaker, something to be despised.

Tivon was not offended. “I would not have taken you for one to defend our mother.”

Canach waved his comment away with a motion of his hand. “If I may, I'll correct myself. I suddenly found my interest in such topics gravely depleted.”

“As you wish.”, Tivon said and turned his head, but he could not see Kas among the many nobles at all. He wondered if he should look for her through this crowd, but decided it best not to go. If she came looking for him, they'd never find each other again.

“Your company is currently with Minister Estelle.”, Canach cut in and Tivon looked at him in surprise. Canach only rolled his eyes. “I am the Countess' bodyguard. It is my job to notice the comings and goings of people.”

Tivon studied him for a moment. “Has she told you about why we are here?”

Canach shrugged. “You intend to bring the world leaders together. Sticking your noses in their business so they like you. Clever, but only ever for so long. Gratitude is a fleeting thing.”

Tivon knew that much, but there was nothing he could do but try. He would not sit idly by and watch the world getting uprooted by the Elder Dragon. “Mordremoth has awakened.”, Tivon told him. “And _we_ are in danger to become corrupted by it.”

“We.”, Canach echoed, and Tivon was glad Canach had a sharp mind. “The sylvari.”

Tivon nodded. “Ceara saw the world through Omadd's machine, the Pale Tree at the center, and Mordremoth corrupting her, us.”, he paused for a moment. “I have seen it too.”

Canach's eyes narrowed and Tivon saw his hand twitch. It was good that the warrior was quite so wary and focussed, that he knew when to expect a threat, even if seeing one in Tivon was erroneous.

So Tivon lifted his hand in a pacifying manner. “I tell you this as a friendly warning; one sylvari to another.”

Canach's eyes only narrowed. “Why?”

“We have the same enemy.”, Tivon answered. “Is that not enough?”

“You are Soundless.”, Canach remarked. “Why would you care?”

Tivon held his gaze for a few agonizing minutes that stretched into minutes. It was as if Canach was testing him. “I get the feeling you have a misconception about the Soundless.”, Tivon slowly answered, thoughtfully and hesitantly.

“Quite possibly.”, Canach conceded. “Enlighten me.”

“We Soundless have disconnected ourselves from the sympathetic and empathetic bond toward the other sylvari and the Dream and its burden. We use meditation to keep the state of disconnection.”

“Do continue.”

“We harbor no ill-will, nor do we seek revenge. Where there is emotion, serenity can be achieved. We strive to find peace within ourselves so we may control all that we are and our influence on the world.”

“It requires no special training not to care.”, Canach dead-panned. “For a people who seek seclusion you are awfully self-important.”

Tivon continued as if Canach's mocking comment fell on deaf ears.“The meditation breaks the connection to the Pale Tree, and with it, all other sylvari.”

“And I take it it is a welcome side-effect that you end up thinking yourself pensive and stoical.”, Canach shrugged contumely. “We all delude ourselves. Some pills are more bitter than others.”

Tivon tilted his head, wondering if perhaps he was wasting his breath after all. “If you seek to mock me, I am afraid you are wasting your energy.”

“You mock yourself plenty enough. I need not add to your misery.”

Tivon contemplated Canach's words, but he did not understand why the secondborn was so hostile toward the idea of Soundless. He was certain it was nothing personal, that Canach was perfectly capable of keeping the past where it belonged and think of the future...so, why?

“Explain.”

Canach looked annoyed and sighed, but obliged. “Very well. The very idea of becoming Soundless or Nightmare Court is a mockery to the self-development you fear is compromised by the sylvari teachings. You seek to redefine your roots while discarding your true ones. A tree can not shed its roots. The Soundless explore the path of apathy, the Nightmare Court that of cruelty. To disconnect yourself from your purpose and from the family you were born into and seeking to save everyone in the very same world you attempt to escape is ironic.”

“I am afraid you are wrong.”, Tivon said thoughtfully. He wondered if perhaps he should tell Canach of the circumstances leading to his state – but decided against it.

Canach would certainly not understand. Or rather, he would understand - reasoning was not beyond the secondborn, after all – but he would never concede. He'd argue as Taimi had, and perhaps they were both right.

Perhaps he had thought himself too self-important. The thought that his influence alone would tip the tide of the Dreams' alignment was wrong. No one sylvari could possibly be the one to change that – no, it would take a magnitude of negative emotions.

All Tivon had wanted was not to let his own misery flood into the pool of those emotions, so that he did not corrupt the Dream from within, so that he did not add to it. But in the end, now that he was here, what had he truly prevented? The very first strike of sorrow, of guilt and of loss had cut into him before he had become Soundless. He had suffered from an affliction that had torn him apart from within, rearranging him, changing him, because then, he had _died._

He had to grow, to change, develop in order to survive and with that, leave who he had been behind. In the end he kept all that at bay which he clung to; whether it may be weakness or strength he was not about to decide now, but with an enemy as mighty as Mordremoth approaching and threatening, he felt that his feelings gave him strength. They gave him something worth fighting for and his Wyld Hunt appeared only as a meagre component to his fighting spirit.

What kept him going were his friends. His companions. Derwen. As ironic as that was, it was the truth.

Because all rationality aside, he could and would not snuff out that light.

Tivon closed his eyes against the swell of emotions that stormed against the barriers within him and took a deep breath. Whatever the reasons for his past decision was, he was not about to go back. The weight of his broken soul was one he preferred to carry by himself, and not have the Dream carry it with him.

“How so?”, Canach asked with an almost bored look in his eyes, oblivious to Tivon's turmoil.

“You are right,”, Tivon amended and continued, “the Soundless seek to redefine themselves outside the frame the Dream and the Pale Tree have made for them; but we do not seek apathy. We seek control, focus, and equanimity.”

“Then perhaps you ought to do a better job at transmitting.”, Canach scolded, but this time, it sounded much morel like the secondborn was teasing him. It seemed Canach was getting tired of this conversation even though for Tivon it felt, for the very first time in a long time, that he could speak more openly and freely and _bluntly_ than he could with some of his friends. Like he had with Malomedis.

“Thank you.”, Tivon said and inclined his head in a small bowing gesture. “I will think on your words.”

Canach looked startled for merely a second before the look vanished, forgotten in the scowling lines of his face. “Don't thank me.”, Canach said, and it sounded almost like a pout. “If anyone asks, this conversation never happened.”

“Are you embarrassed that the Countess will find out your fondness for the Pale Tree?”, Tivon teased and Canach's look hardened. “Or is it that she is unaware that you have a spark of affinity for emotions?”

“I think this is the moment where you and I say our farewells and secretly hope to never meet again.”

“Then I'll comply to the custom and excuse myself.”, Tivon said and he thought that, for just a moment, Canach's mouth twitched, but it was gone as soon as Tivon thought it. Without another word Tivon turned around and sought out Kasmeer, and behind him Canach loosened the arms in front of his chest and frowned after Tivon.

When Tivon was gone Canach cursed under his breath. “Mulch.”, he brought out, startling a nearby noble woman that scurried toward her husband in a rush. “I still don't know green-ear's name.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I simply imagined Canach being against everyone and absolutely everything that he himself doesn't do. He strikes me as the guy who had an opinion about everything. Do you think he was in character? I love writing him, his character allows me to blurt out some harsh truths that I sometimes as a writer want to tell my character that I otherwise can't. :3  
> Next one on Sunday! <3


	32. Recalibrating the Waypoints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another! Here we go; Taimi goes nuts and then there's alot of bonding. Yup, friends forever. :D  
> Enjoy people!

_Hi! I have good news and bad news. I'd ask you which one you want first, but—you know—it's mail. So, I choose good news first. As you may have noticed, my W.R.D. (waypoint recalibration device) worked like a champion! I've been monitoring the waypoint network, and as the workers repair the waypoints, the vines aren't attacking again. So...did I mention I'm a genius?_

_Now for the bad news. It's Phlunt. No surprise there, huh? He INSISTS that I give him a personal demonstration of how the W.R.D. works. It's as if he doesn't believe that my device is actually causing the change. I'm afraid he's going to try to weasel out of coming to the summit. Can you come be my backup? We may have to beat him up or something._

— _Taimi_

“Oh, it's you.”, Braham's voice boomed from up over the cliff where the slope made a sharp right turn, his red flaming hair a stark contrast against the bright sand. “How'd it go?”

“Rox's tail is very much intact, and Kas managed to snuff out a liar in the ministry. All-in-all, very successful.” Tivon told him as he made his way upward, his staff leaving pointed imprints in the sand whenever he set it down. “Smodur and Queen Jennah are attending for certain, now.”

“Great, cause things are starting to heat up in here.”, Braham grumbled and gestured toward the cave with Omadd's machine. “Taimi's just ahead. Those asuran representatives are getting impatient.”

They walked abreast and Tivon gave him a side-way glance. “You did not hide the body somewhere close-by, did you?”

“I didn't ruffle a single non-existent hair on that egg-headed Phlunt guy.”, Braham beamed proudly. “Although my knuckles are aching to leave a dent in that self-loving face of his.”

Tivon chuckled at that and stared down at the group of asura that all seemed to hover around Taimi like a swarm drawn to carcass. The voice of Phlunt drifted toward his ears and none of them paid him or Braham any mind as they descended the ramp.

“My krewemates in Rata Sum have been monitoring the waypoint network. They say your device is affecting waypoints, not ley line. Why?”, Phlunt demanded to know as if Taimi had just cut the water-supply to Rata Sum.

“Can't you see?”, she asked, and her voice had a shrill note to it. It was her last bit of patience, Tivon could tell. “I adjusted the settings in the waypoints so they process the flow of magic at a more stable rate. I'll put it in simple language for you. My device interfaces with the waypoints and captures on-the-spot readings of magic's rate of flow through them. Using a complicated algorithm that I devised, it calculates the exact minimum frequency required to keep the waypoint running. It then adjusts the waypoint's settings.”

Phlunt looked like he got it, but Tivon wondered if perhaps he was not the only one grasping the concept completely. “Our readings are inconclusive without more information.”, Phlunt replied. “You must demonstrate this device, now!”

“Tivon!”, Taimi cheered, her voice loud enough to startle the other asura and make them turn to face them. “Over here, I got something you need to see.”

Tivon cast Phlunt a glance and then followed Taimi as she walked toward a console and she tapped away, but it became evident even to Tivon that she was only putting on a farce.”I see you got my message? Thanks for coming so quickly.”, she grinned. “I hope you brought some weapons.”

“We won't be assaulting Phlunt.”, he dead-panned and she looked disappointed.

“Aw, foo.”, she made. “Okay, but he's insisting on a demonstration. I have some miniature waypoints I created for testing, so we can use those. I can increase the flow of ley line magic to them to boost their vibrations. They'll be almost as powerful as a real waypoint. “ She looked very pleased with herself, and to Tivon's dismay, tired. The pressure upon her was astronomical; if her device did not work as anticipated then Phlunt would not come to the summit, and the asura would not be represented. This load of pressure, a whole mountain, loaded upon a small asuran girl's shoulders.

“Are you able to protect the waypoint network?”, he asked, a bit more softly.

“Yes. It is working as predicted. My device is recalibrating the waypoints across Tyria, making them vibrate at a lower rate. Like spiders, Mordrem seem attracted to vibrations in the net. But for some reason, Phlunt is still asking for a demonstration. I think he wants all my secrets.”

“What are you whispering about over there?”, Phlunt demanded to know with a snap. Taimi was quick to reply,

“We're formulating a plan to demonstrate how the device works. You will note that this chamber has a number of waypoint-like props. We'll show you how it works...in miniature! You see, it's so easy even a simpleton can do it. Take it away, Braham!”

Braham shook his head and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Nuh-uh. You're not fooling me again. Hey, boss. Why don't you take this one.”

“Again?”, Tivon asked, but the clasp on his shoulder from Braham's large hand had his body jolting forward and moving before the question was out. The recalibration device showed a large interface with various blinking points and lines that Tivon stared at for a couple of seconds before he was sure of only one thing.

He didn't get it.

“There's an active waypoint! Well, a mini one. Go take control of the recalibration device.”, Taimi chirped and Tivon decided to simply press any button at all – one close to the blinking an indicated waypoint – and thankfully the device seemed to charge up, load, and then a gentle hum emitted from it.

The seconds passed by and Tivon slowly lifted his eyes from the device, searching for a message in Taimi's features, but his eyes got caught on Phlunt and his krew. The group of asura was hurdled together, inspecting their panels and portable displays, and then, much to his surprise, Phlunt gasped, “W-why, it is working!” Phlunt lifted his head and glared at him. “Keep at it. I want to see more!”, the asura demanded and Taimi grinned broadly.

The waypoints kept appearing on the screen and Tivon simply tapped the buttons, glad that it was indeed as easy as Taimi had said.

“Truly impressive work for someone so...young.”, Phlunt admitted lowly as if he did not truly mean for anyone to hear him say those exact words.

“So as you can see, Councillor Phlunt, my device will save the entire waypoint network. You can thank me now and later.”, Taimi grinned.

“Was this demonstration to your satisfaction?”, Tivon asked politely.

“The waypoints are protected. Wonderful!” Phlunt said happily and this was the first time Tivon had seen any such emotion on Phlunt's features.

“So you will agree to come to the Grove summit?”, Braham pressed.

“Not so fast, my muscular friend.”, Phlunt shook his head. “In light of this new development, I have decided to add further stipulations to the deal.”

“What?”, Taimi gasped, and then, “Why you—“

“Silence!”, Phlunt demanded shrilly. “Taimi, as a ward to the College of Synergetics of Rata Sum, you are required to hand over all inventions for study and documentation. I hereby claim proprietorship over this waypoint recalibration device. I will hold it in trust for you until your graduation.”

“No! I made this, on my own time, outside of Rata Sum!”, Taimi protested.

“Irrelevant.”, Phlunt said. “Hand it over like a good progeny, and we will see you at the summit.”

“No! I won't let you take it!”, Taimi screeched, and Tivon could see the tears in her eyes. There was a moment where Phlunt and Taimi glared at one another, and then, suddenly, Taimi moved Scruffy forward, had the golem take the recalibration device into its arms and lift it up high.

“Taimi, no!”, Braham tried to stop her, and Phlunt added in a low voice,

“You wouldn't dare disobey your superiors, would you? Just hand it over.” The asura's voice was cold, cool. So much so that Tivon wondered if perhaps the asuran trained for situations such as this, and in that moment Phlunt reminded him of Nightmare Courtiers, cruel and uncompromising.

“Kid, c'mon!” Braham stepped forward and lifted his hands in a pacifying manner. “Calm down and think...”

“I told you. It's mine!” Scruffy moved, with Taimi inside and the W.R.D in its arms, up the ramp with astounding speed, and disappearing with thundering steps into the cave beyond. Before any of them could follow a door snapped shut behind her, cutting them all off.

“Agh!”, Phlunt made in frustration. “Krewe, after that delinquent.” The asura began to skim through the consoles in an attempt to get the door to open, while Tivon and Braham had no choice but to wait...trapped inside the cave with Phlunt and his krewe.

“And there she goes.”, Braham grumbled in dismay and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I swear, that kid is gonna be the death of me.”

Thankfully the asura managed to open the door after just a few minutes of struggling and cursing at each other. Before it had slid open fully the krewe disappeared and Tivon was on the ramp the next second, jogging up the ramp. “We need to follow her.”, he urged and beckoned Braham to follow him. Phlunt and his krewe were barely a few meters ahead, and Tivon was confident they would catch up and gain an advantage in no time.

Braham's thundering steps behind him was all the answer he needed. “My bet is she's headed deeper into the desert, and that means she's either in trouble now or will be very soon.”, Braham said behind him and just as they sped up, they caught up with Phlunt, surpassed them, and left them behind in a trail of dust and sand.

“I hope we arrive before then.”, Tivon murmured, his eyes glued to the ground, following the tracks Scruffy had left in the sand. The golem was heavy and loaded, the imprints deep and sharp. It was easy to follow the trail upwards to the cliff, but among Scruffy's footprints, others joined.

Tivon halted abruptly and Braham made a surprised noise behind him, barely stopping himself from running right into him.

“What is it?”, Braham asked, slightly out of breath.

“These...”, Tivon murmured, his fingers moving over the new footprints that were mere seconds old. “It's Inquest.”

“Then...” Braham said and Tivon blinked up at him.

“They found her.”, Tivon concluded for him and no more words needed to be said. They both rushed the only one direction they could go. The glare of the sun bore down on Tivon's back, but inside he felt only worry and cold dread.

Taimi had warned them that the Inquest would return to the cave, and they most likely had made camp around it to keep a close eye on the activities inside and survey the area. Now, she had run right into their waiting hands.

Scruffy was barely a sparkle of blinking metal in the distance,, becoming more and more defined and silhouetted against the dust and sand that whirled freely in the air. The sizzle of electricity and the humming was vibrant in the air and a scream carried toward their ears that was high and shrill, freezing the sap in Tivon's fibres.

“No!”, Taimi screamed, her voice echoing from the cliffs. “Get away from me!” Tivon felt the sap freeze in his body at the sound.

“Stop that golem!”, an Inquest yelled with a curse but Tivon and Braham caught up before the Inquest technician could set into motion. Braham grabbed the asura's collar in by-passing and flung the asura over his shoulder somewhere behind him, a undignified yelp signalling that the asura landed somewhere down the slope.

“Hang on Taimi!”, Braham yelled. “We're coming!” Braham was all rage and teeth, mace and shield lifted. The heavy metal of his weapon collided with the body of an inquest and sent the small asura flying over the side of the cliff with a cry and out of sight, his mace crushing down into a small body.

Tivon was right beside him and swung his staff over the side, knocking an Inquest grenadier over backwards into the sand where the asura rolled down the slope with a startled cry. He swung his staff around and summoned a thin, long vine that whipped around, curled around an Inquest's leg and when he pulled the staff back, the asura was flung into the air and disappeared into the thick veil of grey and beige.

Taimi was ahead, Scruffy her only protection as the Inquest cornered her against the high of the cliff, nothing but large gaps around her. “Braham! Tivon!”, she called out helplessly. “Help! I'm cornered!”

“We're coming!”, Tivon shouted and blocked an Inquest that attacked him with two blades, the electrified steel meeting his wooden staff. Despite the asura's size he had trouble actually pushing the asura away and he leaned back, kicking out toward the Inquest. The two swords fell from the Inquest's hands into the sand when the asura stumbled backwards and Tivon gripped the staff, turned around his axis once and used the momentum to fling the asura backwards.

Braham was pushing forward toward the height of the cliff, Inquest all over the place throwing grenades and electric missiles toward them, one coming close enough to actually settle and sizzle on the pelt adorning Braham's leather coat, but Braham didn't pay it any mind.

The norn was contained rage; Determination and vehemency burning from his eyes alone, making the Inquest in his path shirk away in fear. Braham made a growling noise and lifted his shield, casting a glowing corona that kept the sizzling electric charges and missiles the Inquest shot their way at bay, rippling over the shield of blue.

Tivon lifted his arm into the air and summoned vines that churned from beneath the sand, fracturing the stone beneath and bursting toward the surface, entwining and moving forward in a rush and tangle of coppice. The inquest caught in the path were trapped beneath and held down, pressured beneath the fibres, plants and thorns. Tivon pulled his hand down, shacking at the effort and glanced up at Braham who charged forward like a battering ram.

The remaining Inquest split up, one group attempting to keep Braham back, the other attempting to make Scruffy hand over the device, but the golem – or rather, Taimi – held onto it, fighting the Inquest back with uncontrolled swing of Scruffy's arms, taking more and more steps back closer and closer to the edge

Tivon let the magic in his vines burst free and stumbled back at the force. “Stop, Taimi!”, he yelled, but his call was lost in the chaos and sizzling of electric charges and fighting. Tivon summoned his strength and moved forward, jumping atop the shrivelling vines, feet tapping over the tangle of coppice and brambles in an attempt to get closer, to reach her, but Scruffy moved back another step, the rock beneath made an aching, cracking noise and Scruffy tilted backwards -

Taimi screamed loudly in panic, Scruffy's arms lifting into the air uncontrolled and Tivon watched as Braham charged forward, attempting to brush through the last line of Inquest that blocked his path. “Taimi!”, Braham yelled in horror and Tivon jumped from the vines and pressed his hand into the sand, charging his magic into the ground.

More vines sprouted and withered beneath, moving and surging forward and breaking through the stone. It felt like an eternity, one second stretched into one, single breath that echoed and Tivon watched as Scruffy toppled, tilted....and finally the vines came crashing through the cliff behind Taimi, weaving and knotting to form a small advance. The golem could no longer hold its balance; it simply fell over and Taimi screamed loudly, the clank of metal upon vine rumbling through the ground and into Tivon's arms.

He gasped at the sharp, white pain, the sudden weight that seemed to rest on him. It felt as if something was attempting to crush Tivon's arm and wrist, bending them in ways they were not meant to go. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, holding on desperately as the vines shuddered under the weight and his arms began to tremble at the effort. _A little longer, just a little longer,_ he told himself, felt his strength waning, his arm bending beneath the force, and when he felt Scruffy shift there was a loud snapping noise and a pain that travelled up his forearm into his shoulder like a trail of lava and he barely held back a scream, biting his lip hard enough to draw sap.

His whole body trembled, his whole arm felt broken, but he could feel the vines reacting still, he felt them move and twist to keep up, to keep Taimi where she was-

There was another asuran scream that disappeared over the edge and then he heard Braham's boots move hastily, heard the metallic shifting of the golem's parts and the weight slowly lifted from his arm, his bough feeling bent and bruised. He pulled his arm free and winced, noticed that his hand was bent in an awkward angle and he dropped his staff into the sand to grasp his deformed joint. It was broken, cleanly, as much as he could tell, and he took a deep breath and cradled it close to his chest before he stumbled over to Braham's side.

Scruffy made an uncertain step forward and powered down, arms snapping closer to its body and upper part lowering toward the ground. There was a slight puffing noise and then the lid lifted and revealed the small asuran girl inside, shivering like a leaf. “Taimi!”, Braham brought out in relief and got closer, resting his hand on top of the lid, shielding Taimi away from the glaring sun. “You OK kid?”

Taimi looked at Braham with wide eyes, tears sparkling in them before she raised her arms toward him. “Braham.”, she sobbed and Braham leaned in closer and scooped her from the compartment and hugged her tightly to his chest. “Braham!”, she snuffed. “Braham, they were all around me... I thought...”, she sobbed pitifully and Tivon let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey.”, Braham hushed. “Hey now. You're OK. You're fine. You're safe now.”, the great norn soothed, voice low and quiet.

Tivon stepped closer to Braham and Taimi and rested his good hand atop Taimi's shoulder and she blinked up at him through the blur of her eyes. “You're safe.”, Tivon repeated. “We've beaten them. They're gone. All of them.”

She gave him a weak, watery smile and gave a choking laugh that sounded more like a sob, and Tivon drew soothing circles on her back, glad that they had come in time, that she was alright.

Taimi sniffled again and Tivon saw it once again, a small little girl braced with problems that she should not have to deal with yet, but the world was cruel like that. It did not wait for anyone to be ready; you either learned along the way, or you faltered.

“Are you hurt?”, Tivon asked in a soft voice.

“N-no.”, she brought out with a small shake of her head. “No, I'm fine.”

This moment felt more like a miracle and a blessing than anything else. Standing here with Braham and the both of them cradling Taimi, Tivon realized once more just _how_ dangerous their course was, and that there were so many enemies in this world that would oppose them.

He also realized that he would rather have all his joints broken and the bark torn from his skin that to see his friends hurt. Or to see them...

Tivon didn't dare finish that thought.

Instead he revelled in that small moment of serenity and solemnity and watched, almost proudly, as Taimi slowly regained her strength with each inhale of breath. She glanced at him and Tivon was not sure what she was _asking,_ but there was a question there. Before she voiced it her eyes fell somewhere over his shoulder and her eyes turned cold and hard, the tear streaks on her cheeks glittering in the sun.

“What are _they_ doing here?”, she asked.

Tivon and Braham followed her gaze. Phlunt's krewe was marching just over the slope in the distance, and once they noticed the trio, they marched straight toward them.

“It's too soon!”, Taimi rasped, desperation weaving into her words and she looked at Tivon pleadingly. “I need more time. If they want my device, they can wait. I'll give it up, later.”

If it were up to him, he'd let her keep it. All of it. He'd protect her from asura like Phlunt who attempted to steal what was hers, and it broke some part of him that in this moment, due to the state the world was in, he had to ask her to sacrifice this.

“Remember, Taimi.”, he murmured softly and noticed how her eyes widened. “This is for the greater good.”

“Explain to me how rewarding evil, not to mention theft from promising students, is for the greater good. They're stealing my genius.”, she shot back and Tivon squeezed her shoulder, his hand never having left it.

“You're sacrificing it to get them to the summit.”, he reminded her calmly.

“Why do I have to be the one to sacrifice something?” she shot back. “Especially something this important!” She looked furious, and by the Pale Tree, Tivon _understood_. He glanced at Braham and knew that whatever he decided, Braham would be on board, even if it meant defying the whole world. 

“Okay.”, Tivon said and she looked stunned, her mouth hanging open, ready to argue. “If you really don't want to give it up, I will not ask it of you.”

Surprise etched into her features and she averted her eyes. “You...won't?”, she asked carefully, as if she did not believe him.

“I am hoping you have a plan.”, Tivon smiled at her. “Phlunt will be furious.”

She stared at him for a few seconds as if judging him, and then she yielded. “No, it's okay.”, she said lowly and softly, resigning herself. “I understand. It just makes me so mad. It's just that they don't deserve it. It's MY work. But, the summit is important.”

“When this is over, we will make sure they remember.” Tivon promised.

“They won't care.”, Taimi grit out angrily, but the anger faded as swiftly as it came. “But...I understand. I get it.”

“Thanks, Taimi.”, Tivon said earnestly and cast Braham a glance that said, _Watch her while I deal with Phlunt_ , and Braham gave him a curt nod. Odd, how they already knew each other so well. Tivon slowly rose to his feet and made sure the Taimi was obstructed from view, kept from the curious gaze of Phlunt's krewe. He would not let them see her vulnerable state, not when they exploited her like this. 

As he walked over toward where the krewe stood he picked up his staff where he had dropped it nonchalantly and did not let it show that his wrist was impaired at all. His steps were a calculated stride, slow and purposeful, and he took his precious time to leave them wary and slightly intimidated when he approached. There was something oddly satisfying in that, Tivon found.

“Taimi has agreed to hand over the device.”, Tivon stood in front of the krewe, staff sinking in slightly into the sand.

“Perhaps you're not such a bad influence. You did get her to see reason after all.”, Phlunt grinned, but Tivon kept his expression level, cold, even.

“Yes, I suppose I did. As long as you're coming to the summit, yes?” If Phlunt would go back on his word now, Tivon was committed to defying him, his krewe and all of Rata Sum if he had to. He would signal Braham, grab Taimi and the device and never look back.

Part of him wished it would happen, but Phlunt made a gesture with his arm, waving into the air. “Yes. I'll be there.”, the asura said as if he'd forgotten, as if he didn't care. “I can't promise I'll agree to anything you propose, but I'll be there. I gave my word.”

“And we all know how reliable your word is.”, Tivon said lowly and Phlunt looked up at him, eyes narrowing. The asura understood and did not say a word. Instead Phlunt made a “hmph.” noise and made to walk past Tivon, but he brought the staff in between Phlunt and the passage toward Taimi and Braham.

“It will be our pleasure to deliver it to the cave.”, Tivon said blandly, eyes glaring in warning. Phlunt stumbled back and looked up at him, squinting.

“As you wish.”, the asura spat and beckoned his krewe to follow him. The asura descended the way they had come and Tivon stood rooted on the spot, looking after them until they were out of sight. Only then did he turn around and stomped back to Taimi and Braham.

Taimi was on her own feet again, inspecting the damages on Scruffy. “What did Phlunt say?”, she asked bitterly.

“He was pleased.”, Tivon told her and heard her snort.

“That dirt-eating snake.”, Taimi cursed. “He doesn't deserve it.” She rounded Scruffy one last time before she sighed, stemming her hands into her hips. “It'll take some time to repair him. His basic functions are still intact, but most of his protocol is fried.”

“I'll be soon, too.”, Braham mentioned and squinted up against the sun and sky. “I don't know how anyone can live here. It's scalding.”

“Some might say that about the Foothills.”, Tivon reminded him. “Even though the weather there is frigid.”

“Ugh.”, Taimi made. “Are you seriously discussing the weather right now?”

“We have to pass time somehow.”, the norn shrugged. Taimi made an annoyed sound and climbed up into her compartment. After just a few seconds Scruffy came back to life, lights flickering and the lid closed. Braham unfolded his hands, turned, and clasped Tivon on his shoulder. “Time to-”

Tivon winced when the jerk jolted through his whole arm and Braham quickly lifted his hand in caution.

“What is it?”, Taimi asked and Tivon waved with his other hand.

“It's fine.”, he said. “It's my wrist. It's broken.”

“Heh.”, Braham chuckled and relaxed. “And here I thought we got through this unscathed.”

“Sorry to fail your expectations.”, Tivon smiled back and cradled his broken wrist close to his chest, his other hand encasing it and slowly pouring healing magic into the bark and fibres. “I'd trade a wrist for this outcome any day.”

“Spoken like a norn.”, Braham grinned and flashed his teeth. “That was a pretty good fight back there. It always feels good to level some stinking Inquest.”

“You would be happy with smashing just about anything.”, Taimi dead-panned, the heavy thud of Scruff's feet sending a vibration through the sand as they moved.

Braham shrugged nonchalantly. “That's me.”, the norn jested. “Smasher of everything.”

They spend the rest of the way chuckling and giggling.

 


	33. The Summit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. It's pretty long, but that's what you get when you mix ab bunch of world leaders in one place to talk, eh? I hope you enjoy this chapters as much as I did writing it; I've rewritten it so many times, and this seems to be the best I can do. My descriptions of the universe suck, I know. You'll see.  
> Anyway, one summit and some fighting, coming right up! Enjoy!

_Tivon,_

_I'm writing to inform you that, at the behest of the Pale Tree, I and the Commander will be attending the summit you are arranging to discuss Mordremoth. I'm deeply curious to discover what the world leaders will say about the idea of combining efforts. I know we could use the additional firepower. If you manage to convince the leaders to work together, it will be an enormous victory._

_I look forward to seeing you again, Valiant._

_\- Trahearne._

Tivon had never seen the Grove quite so packed. There were people of all races, curious onlookers and representatives that would be an entourage for their respective race's leader. Among the many faces Tivon saw Canach with an unknown sylvari, and as he passed by it became clear why.

“You seem uncomfortable being back home in the Grove, blossom.”, the female sylvari said with a sultry voice.

“I despise both puns and pet names, Countess.”, Canach dead-panned, eyes clearly on the road before him, watching every single guest warily. “But as long as you hold my billet, I will go where you need me.”

“Worried your mother might not approve of all your naughty misadventures?”, she teased and Tivon titled his head curiously and wondered if he would be spotted.

“I'm sure she has far larger concerns.”, Canach said, and Tivon could hear the roll of his eyes.

“True, you are only one among her thousands of children. Not as dear as her firstborn, like our heroic Pact Marshal.”, Countess Anise replied nonchalantly, but it was a stab nonetheless.

“It may be wiser to focus such commentary on someone without a violent criminal history, Countess.”, Canach warned lowly and the Countess only chuckled lightly.

“This envy of your older siblings ill becomes you. You'd do well to find a way past it.”, Countess Anise lectured. “I think you overestimate the value of being first. A windfallen fruit has never appealed to me as much as one left on the bough to ripen.”

“You do keep those blades of yours keen, Countess.”, Canach conceded and the tilt of his head was all the indication he gave the Countess that she had awakened his curiosity.

“Forgive my meddling, petal. It's just that I see such potential in you.” She sounded teasing, once again, seriousness forgotten.

“Petal?”, Canach asked in disgust. “I fear you've only employed me in order to sharpen your wit-or work on your plant puns. Why not prove me wrong and tell me your true purpose?”

“All in good time.”, she smiled.

“Do you treat everyone you encounter like children?”, Canach asked in exasperation.

She laughed. “You are a delicate flower, aren't you? So easily bruised...”

“I have a thick skin.”, Canach dead-panned. “I also learn from my missteps. For example, you fooled me once with your illusions, so now I wonder if you're truly as young as-”

“Do not finish that sentence.”, she said sharply. “Not here, not ever.”

Canach revelled in his victory. “At last, a substantial response.”

“Yes, well.”, Anise said to regain her ground. “You would be wise to remember your place and check that tongue of yours.”

“When will you tell me why you brought me here?”, Canach asked.

“I'm trying to decide if I can trust you out in the field. I mean, after that nasty business on Southsun. Tsk.”

“Regardless of what you may believe, I was trying to free those refugees from the Consortium's exploitation. I went about it...poorly. Criminally. And I answered for my crimes.” Tivon wondered how many times Canach had been made to talk about that time at Southsun, how many people had demanded for him to explain himself.

“Your intentions in that affair, whether noble or not, aren't what concern me.”, Anise murmured. “It's your failure to evade capture.”

“I beg your pardon?”, Canach asked, and Tivon too was surprised, but he kept quiet and still, pretending to be interested in a large flower with snow-colored petals that glowed in the dim light.

“Noble intentions don't interest me. What I need is a sharp instrument. A knife that can be employed before anyone realizes it's struck.”

“Show me where to cut, Countess, and I will be your blade.”, Canach said, and Anise turned her head toward Canach with a smile, and for the first time noticed Tivon standing behind them.

She lost none of her calm, however. “Greetings stranger.”, she said and turned toward him fully. Canach followed her gaze and hid his surprise as well. “I am all abloom with delight at meeting so many different people.”

Tivon came sauntering closer. “I know it is you, Countess.”, he said, and her smile broadened.

“You've always been the clever one.”, she praised, but it fell on deaf ears. “Well, I beseech you not to give away my little secret. It's for the Queen's security.”

“I will leave you to your pretence.”, Tivon nodded and brushed past, and he knew they were wondering how much he had heard, but he did not truly care. All that he knew now was that Canach was dedicated to being Anise's servant, and so long as Canach's blade was directed at his enemies, he had no quarrel with them. It only unnerved him that Anise seemed to be playing at a game that Tivon had yet to figure out.

Tivon joined his friends instead and noticed that Kas was still not here. She would be at the Queen's side as an escort and arrive later with the representatives, and that would be any minute now. “We did it. They're all coming.”, Braham breathed a sigh of relief.

“So they said. I'll believe it when I see it.”, Taimi grumbled.

“Everyone understands how important this is.”, Braham insisted, his eyes glued to the asura gate. “They'll be here.”

“Remember your place here.”, Jory cautioned. “We have an audience with them. It's not a party.” Tivon wanted to ask her how she was, but he decided against it. She would tell him that she was fine, and he'd be none the wiser. Her eyes met his own and only mirrored the conversation in her features, and suddenly he was glad that he knew her well enough not to need to ask.

“Agreed.”, Rox said and broke through the short moment in which Tivon had asked Jory all the questions without a word being said at all. “We may not be able to speak at all. They're here to talk to one another.”

“They'll listen to the boss.”, Taimi chirped in and looked up at Tivon with a grin. “I know it.”

Ever since the incident in Dry Top, she had become more attached to him. Him and Braham, but of course, she and Braham had always been close. Now Tivon sometimes wondered if this was what humans called parenting.

The representatives arrived, one group at a time. The asura gate buzzed as the forms appeared from the curtained veil of purple and when Kas passed them by, she gave them a glance, quickly and covertly stepping closer toward them, but Kas only had eyes for Jory. “Hi, you made it!”, she said and looked at her girlfriend expectantly. Jory reached out and took her hand and squeezed it, giving her a wide, loving smile.

“You look beautiful.”, Jory said in a hushed voice and Kas blushed. Jory's eyes darted toward the group of representatives that were moving forward without Kas and she shooed her away. “Now go! Before the queen notices you're gone.”

Kas chuckled lightly. “I missed you.”, she whispered and only reluctantly let her hand fall from her hand to catch up.

“Me too!”, Jory called after her, and in that moment, she looked recovered and strengthened. If she had told Tivon she was alright, he'd believe it.

The norn, charr and asuran representatives passed by, and it was only when Trahearne and Sgileas passed by that Tivon seemed to realize just _how_ important this meeting was. That not only the Pact, but _the whole world_ would unite to fight against Mordremoth. 

Excitement prickled under his skin and when Sgileas noticed him, the Necromancer gave a curt nod of his head in recognition and then moved toward the chamber. Tivon took a deep breath. All of this, them, together. Fighting Mordremoth.

“Pardon me.”, a warden ranger came toward them. “The world leaders are assembled and awaiting your presence. You may proceed to the Omphalos Chamber.”

“That's our cue.”, Rox chimed. “Best behavior, everyone.”

“I can't wait to see Phlunt's stupid face when he realizes we're right.”, Taimi grinned and made to move Scruffy, but the Warden raised his hand to stop her.

“Pardon. I'm sorry to interject myself, but I'm afraid your golem won't be allowed to ascend to the Omphalos Chamber.”

“What? No.”, Taimi pouted, shoulders deflating.

“This is for grown-ups anyway, Taimi. You need to wait for us down here.”, Rox said with a shrug.

“You're kidding right?”, Taimi asked pleadingly, but it was Braham who answered.

“Somebody needs to stay down here and guard our backs. We'll be vulnerable up there.”, Braham urged in seriousness, and Taimi looked at him with suspicion. “I'll tell you all about it later. Promise.”, he added, and that at last seemed to appease her.

“You'd better remember every little detail, Braham.”, she cautioned and then sighed. “All right. Scruffy and I will guard the way up.”

They moved toward the seed and Tivon found it packed now that his friends were there with him. When they reached the top he felt the anxiety prickling once again and made his way toward the Pale Tree, leading his friends forward. They all glanced around in awe, looking over the bough and the branches keeping the hallow of the tree sheltered from rain and wind, the large cleaves in between looking like windows, offering a wide view over the sea and parts of the Caledon forest as well as the Grove.

Beside the Pale Tree stood Trahearne and Sgileas, looking like dark guardians in the shadow of the Pale Tree's white light. It was almost as if she glowed, the golden pollen falling from her petal dress toward the ground in a sparkling shower.

Her eyes met his and Tivon bowed his head and lowered his eyes. “Mother.”, he greeted her and she smiled.

“Esteemed leaders, welcome to the Grove. Your attendance at this critical summit is appreciated.”, she said and glanced around, letting her eyes linger on every leader for a few seconds before her gaze continued. “We are here at the behest of the honored group you see before you. I'm told you're all familiar with one another, so I won't make introductions. I will, however, let their spokesperson give us a summary. So, without further ado... Please begin.” With a gesture of her pale hand she pointed toward Tivon and he stepped forward toward a small podest that was built from ferns and vines, sprouted and grown from the ground. He turned his back toward the Pale Tree and faced the representatives and his friends fully and suddenly, it became clear as day that this was the most important thing he had ever done.

But he was not nervous. He was determined.

“Greetings. I'm Tivon. Thank you for coming.” His eyes wandered over the many faces and he realized he knew most of them, which was astounding in its own way. “It says much about your leadership that you did. We've all been hearing about Mordremoth's awakening and the damage the Elder Dragon has already wrought. In the time that this dragon has been awake, it has been sending out vines as far as the Iron Marches. Soon Tyria will be nothing more than a giant briar patch. These vines are malicious.”, he took a deep breath and continued. “Fort Salma has been destroyed. Fort Concordia as well. Their defenses could not keep out an enemy that rises from beneath, shaking the very foundation of their walls and towers.” 

He remembered the two Fort's all too well, and the sacrifices they had to make. The many lives that had been lost. There was no shrinking from this responsibility to unite against Mordremoth, he would make sure they understood that.

“We can't know where it will attack until it does. No one is safe. Our families, our people, our trade routes... Most recently, our waypoints were threatened. They may be again someday. This is why I stand before you and ask that you, the most powerful leaders of Tyria, link arms and armies and work together to keep one and all safe and secure. It's up to us. There is no one else. We must unite. We are all Tyrians.” There was a moments pause in which he inclined his head and retreated from the podest. “Thank you for listening.”

“Thank you for that information.”, the Pale Tree behind him said and he nodded toward her. Her smile was just for him, then her eyes glanced toward their assembly. “Esteemed leaders, what are your thoughts?”

Smodur was the first to speaks. “Mordremoth.”, he sighed. “Its attacks have been far-reaching, but unfocused. Meanwhile, Ascalonian ghosts continue to harass us. If the Ascalonian ghosts aren't reason enough, we have an army of Flame Legion constantly nipping at our heels, just waiting for us to leave the Black Citadel unprotected so they can invade.”

“And when Mordremoth has destroyed your citadel? What then?”, Tivon asked in a collected tone.

“That will happen over my dead body!”, Smodur snarled in anger. “How can you even suggest such a thing?”

“It already destroyed two forts.”, Tivon pressed. “A friend lost her sister in one of those.” He did not glance at Jory. He did not want to put her on the spot, and he knew she appreciated that he addressed her sister's sacrifice.

“You should visit us in our territory one day, so you can see how the Flame Legion and Ascalonian ghosts kill our loved ones.”, Smodur dead-panned, not impressed. “Then perhaps you will understand why we can spare no one.”

“Don't you have hope now that you can deal with the ghosts?”, Tivon asked, reminding Smodur that Rytlock was going after Sohothin so that their cause to rid them of the ghosts forever.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”, Smodur relented. “And that does allow me to relax one eye. But only one. You were instrumental in that experiment, and though it wasn't completely successful, I do believe we will be one day.”

“I truly believe Mordremoth is the greatest threat right now.”, Tivon said honestly.

“They're plant creatures! How hard can they be to fight. One good flamethrower and...”, Smodur snapped, but Tivon interrupted him.

“With all due respect, those two forts were defended by Vigil and Seraph.”, Tivon countered. Both forces were not known for being unresourceful and weak. Quite the contrary.

“They were unprepared, taken by surprise.”, Smodur argued. “In the future, everyone will be more alert and ready.”

“I saw with my own two eyes how those places were torn asunder.”, Tivon reminded Smodur, reminded the Charr that beside the vigil and seraph, _he_ had fought there as well, and he knew that Smodur had seen part of his capabilities.

“I heard it was bad.”, Smodur grumbled and gave a long, weary sigh. “Okay. I respect you, and that alone is the reason I'm agreeing to explore this. I make no commitment, but I'll participate in the discussions.”

Tivon nodded. “Thank you Imperator.”, but before he could relish that Smodur was convinced, Whitebear cut in.

“Hoelbrak has its hands full with Jormag and the Sons of Svanir. You want us to leave our homesteads to their mercy and go after Mordremoth? I remember the day Jormag awoke and begun spewing cold hatred upon my people. I've lost friends. Family. And every single day it's a struggle to keep from losing more.”

“Mordremoth doesn't care if you're too busy to fight back.”, Tivon frowned. How was it that they all seemed so very concerned with battles they had been fighting for many, many years and won, or rather, were not going to lose over the course of their fight with Mordremoth? Eliminate one threat united, and all foes would think twice to oppose them. “It's coming.”

“Mordremoth is not yet as close as the Sons of Svanir.”, Knut argued. “They press in around our homesteads. That is more important.”

“If you wait until Mordremoth attacks to react, it will be too late.”, Tivon reasoned.

“I do not command an army.”, Knut reminded him. “My people make up their own minds and follow their own legends.”

“Then make them aware.”, Tivon suggested. “Join the discussion and relay what you hear.”

Knut paused briefly and nodded. “That is something I can do. The hunters choose their own prey, but I can make sure they know what's coming. I know many who would leap at the chance to fight a dragon!”, the great norn let out a chuckle as if the idea of fighting an Elder Dragon was somehow amusing.

“That's all I ask.”, Tivon bowed his head, but once again, before he could begin to believe all concerns were dealt with, Phlunt was the next to speak up.

“Why is the Pact not handling this?”, the asura asked, glaring over at where Trahearne and Sgileas stood. “Are they mired at Orr? Aren't you being a bit alarmist? What does Trahearne have to say? I want to know what he and the Pact are doing about all this. It's their job, after all.”

“I am hear to learn, to listen, and to consider — as you all should do.”, Trahearne said in his calm voice that could easily sway even the grumpiest of Phlunt's moods. “The Pact is not all-powerful.”

“I'm sure the Pact will do all they can, but they won't be enough.”, Sgileas cut in, arms folded in front of his chest, and his voice was nothing short of freezing.

“Won't be enough? Why not?”, Phlunt asked back sharply. “You took down Zhaitan. What's so different about this one. Just do it again.”

Sgileas eyes narrowed. “We lost many in that fight. The orders' numbers are reduced.”

“Well, that's your responsibility.”, Phlunt shrugged as if the fate of those that had fallen did not concern him. “Many of those lost were asura.”

“All the more reason not to cut yourselves off from the rest of us.”, Tivon took over.

“We have ample protection. Are you saying we should put ourselves on the line to protect all of you? We are safe in Rata Sum.”

“Are you?”, Tivon asked. “Like you were safe underground?”

Phlunt looked as if he had bitten on something bitter. “Hmph.”, he made and conceded. “Point well made. Though it galls me to say it, if we hadn't come to the surface, Primordus and its destroyers would have annihilated my people.”

“Then you see the wisdom in joining forces with others who also want safety.”, Tivon elicited.

“For now.”, Phlunt grumblingly agreed. “We will continue to study the situation and participate in discussion with the other races.”

“Thank you, Councillor.”, Tivon nodded. Something felt...odd. Quiet. Not here, not in this room, not when Queen Jennah began announcing her concern, no. Something unsettling nestled in the air, as if a heavy weight brought down Tivon's shoulders. He had trouble discerning what made him feel so disquieted and uneasy, and his concentration only languidly snapped back to what Queen Jennah was saying.

“I don't doubt that Mordremoth is a great threat to Tyria, but the safety of my people must be my foremost priority. We are brave and strong, but we are few. For so long we have been at war. Centaurs run right up to our doorstep. Every week, I send letters of condolence to families who have lost loved ones.”

“Your situation is no different than any of these others.”, Tivon noticed.

“Perhaps that's true.”, Queen Jennah agreed. “We all have a responsibility to protect our people and see them prosper. But I'm not ashamed to admit that I don't see how this will work. What are you asking of us? “

“All I'm asking is that you talk to one another.” That was the whole point of the summit. That they could come together, not for him to talk them through each and every step. It would be much simpler if the Pact took over and integrated those forces the leaders were willing to yield to the cause into their ranks, but instead, they chose to dwell on those wolfs nipping at their heels. May that be Jormag, Svanir, Ghosts or centaurs.

“Talk?”, she frowned. “How will that help? I can barely get a cease-fire with the Charr, and you want us to coordinate efforts against the dragons?”

“This is a chance to solidify relations with the Charr over a common enemy.”, Tivon suggested.

“You make a good point. However, I cannot promise today that we will march into battle with you.”

“If you'll join the discussion, you'll find the best way to contribute.”

“I do have strategists and researchers that aren't needed to fight centaurs. I can form them into a team and ask the best way to proceed against Mordremoth.”, she offered.

“The entire world is in grave danger. We all have a role to play.” Why did they not see? And why did he feel as if the air was getting heavier?

“Yes, I believe I see.”, she nodded thoughtfully. “You have opened my eyes to the breadth and depth of this threat. It's not another kingdom that is in danger. It's all our kingdoms. All our peoples.”

“Magic is the lifeblood of Tyria.”, Tivon explained. “Without it, I hate to think...”

“I will explore how my people can support the effort. You have my word.”, she said earnestly.

“I don't have all the answers.”, Tivon told her, no, _them_ , and glanced around. “ But we'll find them if we work together.”

“You have all given me hope for Tyria.”, the Pale Tree said behind him and Tivon turned around. “It seems we-”

She was interrupted by the darkening of the bough, the rattling of branches and the creaking of bark all around them when suddenly the leaves in the branches shifted in a ferocious breeze. For a few seconds everything went quiet, everyone stilled, anticipating...

and then came a roar, dangerously close, and everyone moved.

“Weapons out!”, Smodur roared, pulling a sword from the leathery scabbard around his waist and lifting it into the air. “We're under attack!”

“The enemy is here. Defend yourselves!”, Trahearne called, and the Representatives were crowded by their protectors and guardians, building small groups that were hurdled together. Kas and Jory headed to protect the Queen, Rox was at Smoldur's side in an instant and Braham smacked away a Mordrem that rose from the ground, sending it to fly over the side and form the tree's bough to stand beside Knut Whitebear, who was raising a massive greatsword and holding it up easily.

Tivon did not move away, He stayed where he was, glancing over his shoulder toward the Pale Tree and noticed that her eyes were wide in fear and terror, but she was not looking at him. She was looking somewhere beyond him, far away over his shoulder where the sound of crashing and breaking branches echoed loudly through the air, nearly louder than the sounds of fighting.

Mordrem grew from the ground, taking roots and branches to build their bodies, nourished by the Pale Tree's fertile ground with cracking noises. Tivon swung his staff to the side, crashing into the side of a mordrem wolves head. The creature staggered to the right, losing its balance for a mere moment before Kota jumped atop it, sharp, piercing legs pushing right through and impaling it on the ground. Vail was crowing over his head, shooting down like an arrows made from silver light, claws digging into branches and plugging them free, slowly tearing the Mordrem apart.

Tivon's head whirled around when he felt the Pale Tree stagger. It was as if he himself shifted, as if the weight of the world suddenly was too much, as if his balance had ceased to exist, pulling him over to the side, but it was only temporary. A tug, a pull, and he heard himself gasp out when she began to stumble and fall, faint and weak, and he lunged toward her, capturing her lithe and slim shoulders against him, falling to his knees.

“Mother!”, he gasped and even though he registered from the corner of his eyes that Trahearne and Sgileas cast him a look, he did not bother to check their reactions. “Mother, are you alright?”, Tivon urged, and all the fibres inside him seemed to contract and clench when he noticed that she breathed heaving breaths, the bark under his fingers feeling clam and cold as if she had been sapped from any warmth.

The waves of mordrem did not stop. Relentlessly they grew from the ground and Tivon heard the fighting behind him, but he knew that with Trahearne and Sgileas as well as his friends in the fray, there was nothing he needed to fear.

Except for the Pale Tree, who struggled to catch her breath, hand trembling as she raised it to cup his cheek, only to fall a few inches too short. The arm fell and landed over her stomach and she looked pained.

“Don't exert yourself.”, Tivon whispered. “We will protect you.”

“I'm...”, she hushed, but her voice was so soft and quiet he barely heard. His arm that curled around her upper back and shoulders gripped a tad tighter and he lifted his free hand, let it hover over her chest.

The channel of his magic was all too familiar, but what he felt inside...it wasn't. It was like grasping into decaying flesh, rotten trees and branches, roots tangled and infected. As if she was poisoned from the inside. His magic reached into her, permeating the fine fibres and fabric of her bark, and yet there was _so much_ that was affected that he could not even begin to fathom the _how_ and _why_ , much less where to _begin_.

“Hey, guys?”, Taimi's voice came from down below as a bellow, Scruffy magnifying her voice tenfold. It echoed over the battle. “We've got uninvited company down here!”

“Up here, too!”, Rox called loudly, her claws tightly around her bow as her arrows swished through the air, hitting their mark remarkably, yet with very little success. Frostbite on the other hand dug into the mordrem, tearing them apart with his pincers and stomping atop those that attempted to burrow and gouge from beneath, effectively keeping the enemies at bay.

“Taimi, get in your golem and hold the line.”, Braham roared, leaning over the side where a fall loomed toward the plane below. “We'll send the leaders down once it's safe.”

“You can't!”, Taimi cried, her voice almost drowned against the clashing of blade against bark. “They tore up the lift as soon as they got here! You're trapped up there.”

“No, we're not.”, Jory protested and blinked toward Kas who was whirling around as if she had _felt_ her stare, blonde hair slightly dishevelled, strands sticking to her forehead where sweat had formed. “Kas, start preparing a-”

“Portal.”, Kas finished for her breathlessly and with a swing of her staff she smacked a vine that attempted to lash out at her, making it recoil back. “Already on it.”

“Okay, let's start clearing out the Mordrem and get the leaders to Kasmeer's portal. C'mon!”, Braham encouraged, and he started pushing his way forward through the masses of Mordrem. He raised his shield in front of him, blocking a pile of gunk thrown toward him, and whith a frustrated growl he pushed his shield forward, empowering it with his magic. It glowed blue and expanded so very suddenly into a translucent, glimmering dome that all surrounding Mordrem were pushed away. “Go!”, he roared as the Mordrem flew back from the corona, and they used the window of opportunity to make a dash toward the portal.

The Mordrem rose, but Braham kept up his shield, Rox joined beside him and kept them off from charging at him as he channelled. Kas and Jory were each standing on the other side of the dome, keeping any stray Mordrem away.

Tivon had looked up only briefly to glance toward Braham when the sudden flare of light and blue had erupted, and he felt a pang of worry.

_They will be fine_ , he told himself and just when he wanted to glance down again, Braham's eyes met his. The norn looked tense, taunt, arms flexed under the pressure of the channel, and Braham gestured with a motion of his head.

“Tiv, come on!”, he yelled. “We've got a portal!”

Kas cast him only a quick glance before her attention was demanded from a mordrem wolf that attempted to jump her. She blinked away, leaving an illusion in her wake that shattered under the Mordrem's teeth, distracting and confusing it long enough for Jory to strike it down with her axe.

The Pale Tree shivered in his arm, eyes closed and head leaning against his shoulder. Her body was growing colder and colder by the second, and it felt as if she was corrupted from within, if only slowly, but palpable. He couldn't leave. Not now.

He looked up at Braham again and shook his head with finality and then concentrated and focussed once more, pouring his healing magic into the Pale Tree. Wherever his magic touched the fibres seemed to grow stronger, feebly and waning as they were, and he tried to reach deeper, even  _deeper_ toward her core where he assumed the source of the corruption had festered.

There was a moment where he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, gritting his teeth -

It was like a sudden force charged right into him,  _through_ him. Grasping his body in a tight, cold grip, around his  _throat_ , and he chocked, suddenly unable to breathe. 

He knew this feeling.

_He knew this_ .

“ _Mine.”_ , Mordremoth's dark echo whispered. It was a statement and demand in one. _“Mine.”_

Tivon closed his eyes against the onslaught, fought the anxiety and fear. His body screamed for air, for breath, but he sunk down, deep, _deep_ down into the darkness, to where he was safest, to where he was at peace.

_Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter._

The voice was pushed out, dulled now that Tivon sank into meditation. He breathed, evenly and steady, steeling himself against the Elder Dragon's call. It was barely a whisper in the wind until it was gone and nothing but silence remained, and only then did he dare return.

Reality swept into him like a glass too full, slowly swallowing him and pulling him back in. With great relief he noticed that during his meditation his mind had been focussed, healing and shielding itself against Mordremoth's corrupting grasp, his magic had continuously poured from his fingers into the Pale Tree's body, but that however hard he tried, he could only keep the corruption at bay and not heal it.

It was like a boat slowly drawing full with water, and all he had was a bucket to throw it overboard. It was only a matter of time until he'd run out of energy – and he feared to think what happened then.

The sounds around them had grown eerily quiet. There was no more battle, just the faint flicker of Kas' portal at the edge of Tivon's vision. They had all escaped down below. The Mordrem were no longer rising...

Why then did he feel disquieted still? Anxious?

A hand rested on his shoulder and he startled, looking up at Trahearne who crouched down beside him. “How is she?”, the firstborn asked worriedly and carefully. The hand on his shoulder was gentle but firm.

“Fading.”, Tivon answered, voice rough and raw. It took effort to keep his mind shielded and his energy flowing and he could feel the strain. The pool was diminishing, energy sapping from his core, leaving him feeling stark and slowly burning low like a candle in the night against a bellowing wind.

Trahearne was quiet, watching intently, not interrupting, simply being there. Tivon found comfort in that; he must be doing something right if the firstborn did not attempt to stop him. Or perhaps Trahearne's worry pushed away all other questions the firstborn could possibly ask.

“That's all of them!”, Kas called from below,. The fighting was over, but Tivon did not turn his head to check for the many Mordrem corpses. He heard Sgileas boots on the branches and twigs as they snapped beneath his weight and then the powerful aura permeated the air as the necromancer came to a halt beside Trahearne. “Come on down! I can't keep it up forever!”

“Go.”, Sgileas ordered and for a second Tivon looked up, confused, but he noticed that the Necromancer was not speaking to him. He was speaking to Trahearne, purple eyes glowing almost brightly in the sudden dim.

“Something larger is coming.”, Trahearne said and tuned his head toward Sgileas, craning his neck to look up at him, but Tivon was barely listening. “We have to-”

Sgileas made a movement and pulled Trahearne to his feet, turning the firstborn away from Tivon and the Pale Tree. “I will keep our mother safe.”, Sgileas urged with an edge to his voice. “But I need you to go.”

“Sgileas-”, Trahearne began to protest, but Sgileas stopped him.

“Don't.”, Sgileas said, sharply, but there was supplication in his tone. “Don't fight me on this. Just this once.” The moment stretched into uncomfortable silence, and Tivon wished he was not here to witness it. He tried not to listen to them, to hear them _at all_ , but it was impossible.

“...Alright.”, Trahearne yielded slowly. “Be careful.”

Sgileas' hand on Trahearne's arm lingered for a moment and the two exchanged glances and Tivon focussed entirely on the Avatar of the Pale Tree that rested in his arm. Then, finally, Trahearne turned away, the branches under his feet crunching with ever step as he went, and then the portal flickered as the silhouette of the firstborn disappeared from the corner of Tivon's eyes.

Sgileas knelt down beside him, staring and waiting. The Necromancer was quiet and Tivon found it easy to concentrate, until suddenly the Pale Tree shifted in his arm and blinked up at him with glazed, hazy eyes.

“Mother.”, Tivon breathed in surprise and relief, and Sgileas drew closer.

“What happened to you?”, Sgileas asked, his voice so unnaturally soft Tivon barely recognized it.

“I...I can't take much more.”, she breathed, and her body shuddered in Tivon's arm. “The assault was...fierce. These Mordrem tore at my roots and battered my branches. And...be warned. There is another... “

“Another Mordrem?”, Sgileas asked.

“Yes.”, she breathed. “One of the most dangerous...it comes directly from Mordremoth.” She lifted her head and looked at Tivon gratefully when he continued to pour his healing magic into her to rejuvenate and invigorate her, even if the effect seemed so little Tivon felt _useless_. “Save your strength.”, she pleaded. “It...is coming.” Her eyes fell back on Sgileas. “You know it from your Dream. It draws nearer! If I die...”

“You will not die today, Mother!”, Tivon assured her, his voice more fierce than he had ever heard it. He would not allow it.

“Where is it?”, Sgileas asked, tightening the grip on his scythe that rested beside him on the ground.

“Shh... Listen.”, she whispered and Tivon noticed once more how quiet and heavy the air was. Stifling. “You will hear it approach.”

“I will stand in its way.”, Sgileas vowed and stood, gripping his scythe tightly and turning away with determination.

“You must...”, the Pale Tree breathed, her chest stuttering. “...fight together.” If Sgileas heard, he did not show it. The Necromancer made careful steps until he stood a few feet away from the woven and protective arc, scythe resting readily in his hand, his boots finding purchase on the many Mordrem corpses that lay sprayed upon the grass floor.

“Rest easy, mother.”, Tivon whispered and gripped her tightly, pulling her form against him. “We will keep you safe.”

There was a loud snap and suddenly, the ring of purple vanished into a thousand sparks, and Tivon could hear Braham bellowing from below. “Kasmeer! What happened? Where'd your portal go?”

“I...I don't know!”, she gasped in panic. “It was holding strong, then all of a sudden it was cut off!”

Taimi screamed. “There! It's going for the chamber!”

“Tivon!”; Braham called, and Tivon shivered and lifted his gaze to stare through the windows in the bough, searching for what they could see that he could not.

“Hang on, Tiv!”, Rox yelled. “We'll do what we can from down here! Just...hang on!” Their voices faded away when branches snapped around them loudly, crashing and crunching underneath a massive force. In between the windows and the darkness a shadow hushed by, barely a whisper in the nightfall.

Tivon tensed apprehensively, the sole light in the shadow of the night coming from the faintly glowing petals that slowly bent and closed, the light waning and ceasing as if they too shirked the approaching danger. It was only from Tivon's fingertips that a soft light came, illuminating the Pale Tree's anguished features.

He saw Sgileas standing in the middle of the Omphalos chamber, scythe at the ready, the necromancer's head turning toward the sound as it moved around them. The bough creaked and shook as if something heavy clung to it's side and Tivon made to stand, but Sgileas turned his head toward him, glaring over his shoulder. “Protect her.”, Sgileas ordered and Tivon, who had barely risen from his crouch, knelt back down, keeping the Pale Tree's body close to him.

She was huffing, breath rushing over his chest, and her body was cold. So unbelievably cold as if Tivon held the bark of a fallen tree in winter. He was not sure how much more he could do; all he could do was stop the process, not cleanse it, and to leave Sgileas to battle the impending Mordrem alone...

There was a deep, drawn and loud breath, and then Tivon saw them. Two large yellow eyes that gleamed from the darkness behind the bough, assessing the prey inside. Sgileas stiffened and Tivon could not tear his eyes away, arm tightening around his mother's shoulders.

A dragon.

It was the  _Shadow of the dragon_ .

The dragon jumped to the side, claws digging deep into the bough and leaving large claw marks in its wake before it pushed it's head through, jaw opening wide and revealing a sharp row of ebony teeth.

Sgileas dodged to the side when the snout came and disappeared behind the massive dark, coal-colored bark that made up the dragon's skin. There was a hiss of a blade and Tivon saw the scythe descend through the air into the branches and vines that made up the dragon's jaw, cutting through.

The dragon leaned back with a roar and the ground began to shake and shudder in answer. The earth was already churned from the many mordrem that had burrowed from beneath, and now came even more, crawling up toward them through the bark of the tree, caring little for the damage they made and the Avatar of the Pale Tree shuddered. When the Mordrem reached the surface, coppice and branches spraying across and through the air as they burst through, Tivon lifted his hand and conjured a vine wall that shot up just inches away from his knees, branches intertwining and knotting together high over his head and entwining with the woven arc.

A mordrem wolf dashed against it and bounced back, growling lowly in its throat, sharp teeth digging into the vines that kept the wall together. Tivon felt it, felt the pull and tugging of the Mordrem wolf, the teeth scraping over his skin, but he did not yield. The wall held and he turned his gaze away and closed his eyes.

_Concentrate. Think. Concentrate. You must not falter._

With a deep breath he continued as he had before, but with new certainty and determination. The Pale Tree looked pained, her expression engraved with lines of torture, and Tivon wanted to ease that pain, wanted it to disappear and vanish...

But however much he poured into her, however much he drew from within and scrapped everything raw, he could only keep the corruption at bay for a moment before it forced against him, more powerful than before.

He simply was no match. Mordremoth's corruption had spread too far, it was too strong. He would falter. His powers would not be enough. He would...

he would lose her.

“Hush.”, she whispered, and Tivon wondered how she could be so soft when he saw and felt her agony, when he tried to share it through the bond that sizzled from his fingertips, but he couldn't. “The stars.”, she whispered, and Tivon frowned at her.

“Save your strength.”, he beseeched her.

“Child.”, she chided, but so softly that it was a plea. “The stars.”

Her eyes drifted past him, looked over his shoulder toward the sky and he followed her gaze. Through the thick branches of the Pale Tree, through small crevices amended only as the twigs shuddered and oscillated when the dragon climbed around the bough, Tivon saw the glittering and sparkling stars in the flawless night sky.

What was she looking at? What did she mean? The stars were so very insignificant right now, they were too far away, merely a glint in the distant sky nobody could ever dream to reach. The stars cared nothing for their world, they cared nothing for their struggle; not for Sgileas as he fought the dragon's minions all by himself, not for Tivon who attempted to keep the corruption from entering the Pale Tree's heart and soul.

They were watchers. Watched as the seasons changed, as the wars left the land scarred, as the dragons woke, devoured and slumbered. Watched as they struggled against forces beyond them, because there was no other thing they could do. They had to what was their duty; to watch. Just as Tivon and his friend had to fight Mordremoth, just as much as they had to win.

Because if they did not, they would be consumed. They would die.

What if they...what if they _wanted_ to help? What if they tired of their duty, what if they wanted to change the course of history? What if the secret to a purpose was that is was not so simple at all?

Nature. That...it was nature. It was the way of life. Strength determined the survivor. Not hope. Not faith. Could it be that compassion was a way of nature just as well? That the stars were not merely watchers as Tivon had thought? Perhaps in all the years that they had seen pass by, they had seen a truth Tivon's eyes were blind to. What if they knew that destiny was merely a construct all living things clung to in hope of purpose and fulfilment, in the faint hope that they would not be forgotten? That a single purpose could change the course of history?

What if they knew the grand design? What if they had seen years and years pass by to see the pattern of the world? What if, after all this time, after helplessly _watching_ , they could help? Lend him strength?

Tivon and his friends, Sgileas and Trahearne...all of Tyria, they had to fight. They had no choice. It was them or Mordremoth. It was the natural flow of things, because this and future battles determined the ultimate winner. The one who was stronger. The survivor. The one nature deemed worthy to progress and continue.

_We are_ , Tivon thought as his gaze lingered, and what had been only a second seemed like a small eternity stretching endlessly as he was trapped by the glinting stars in the night sky.  _We are stronger. If you watch, then you know. If you watch, then you have seen what we can accomplish together._

As if in answer, the stars sparkled on the horizon with a gleaming intensity that later nobody would be able to explain, a phenomenon caused by an unknown origin and for Tivon alone.

It began in his fingertips. A prickling feeling, warmth spreading into his forearms, burning its path up into his shoulders and toward his chest where it settled like an ignited coal, smoldering and glinting.

_Carrying the sun within makes one blind to its wonders._

_Oh_ , Tivon thought and looked down at his hands and arms.  _Oh._

The earth, nature, the world, the sky, the stars...it was all a part of the great system, the world, the _universe_. Stars were nothing but suns, only so very, very far away.

No, not far away. Not far away at all.

His skin darkened. Ashen turned grey, and grey faded into marine and dark. His glowing pattern slowly waned, sinking down into the depths of his bark. Black and marine overlapped his entire skin like paint and there, _inside,_ appeared small dots of glinting speckles, sparkles of light that slowly grew into larger forms, weaving together into rivers and vortexes of colours. Through his body he could see the boundaries of the universe, he could stars and galaxies and nebula forming in magnificent patterns too great and too sublime to behold or comprehend.

That is what the stars saw. That is what they could see. They could very well see the bounds of the universe if they wished, but here, right now, they gazed upon them, upon _him_.

His gaze trailed from his shoulder to his arm and then to the Pale Tree, and when he met her gentle eyes she smiled softly. He could not imagine what kind of strength it took her to accomplish smiling in her agony, but it was the greatest of gifts Tivon had ever hoped for. And now, with the stars gazing upon him, he felt like he could keep that strength alive.

His hand glittered as he moved and he channelled the energy that flowed from within, woven from boundaries he had not even known, from places that lay beyond his comprehension. It felt as if he tapped into the vast sky, drinking from the stars themselves.

It was like a parched flower opening its petals eagerly to falling rain, the sunflower stretching toward the sky and sun, it was yearning and receiving all in one. Resonance between earth and sky, between ocean and sun, between moon and tide.

That natural energy was unlike his healing magic that he used. It was more profound, exalted, more powerful, and when he let his hand hover over his mother's chest her breath caught, her body tensed and he pulled his hand upward, pulled, gently, but at the same time tugging, pulling at the roots of evil that spread within.

The corruption fought against him, pulsing in thick, erratic spurts of heat like a fever, a pustule ready to burst open.

“ _MINE!”,_ Mordremoth roared, but Tivon pushed it aside with ease, as if plugging a weed from a garden and discarding it into a ditch. The Pale Tree shuddered and closed her eyes, fighting the pain arching up into her chest, and Tivon pulled, _pulled_ , and filled the spaces beneath with fibres that regrew, healthy and defiant and strong, until he pulled the corruption away completely. From the Pale Tree's chest permeated a black, obscuring mist, darkened moss grew over her torso, spreading like necrotic tissue and the bark fouled, wilting and languishing, leaving a large, gaping hole with splintered marks of bark and bough. 

He weaved the depths together, fibre for fibre, mark for mark, matrices pulling and sewn together to hold strongly, the corruption pushed outward until all that remained was and infested growth upon her breast and he curled his fingers deep into the weed's roots, tugged at it harshly and tore it free with a sickening sound, ripping it from the Pale Tree's chest, eliciting a gasp from her throat.

It pulsed in his palm like he imagined a human heart would, warm and sweltering, and with a motion of his arm he cast it aside, threw it down toward the ground where its roots withered and shrivelled, soon to become still.

The Pale Tree looked up at Tivon, eternally grateful and  _proud,_ but Tivon was looking for signs of pain, for signs of remaining agony and discomfort. He startled when her hand lifted to his cheek and cupped it, bark still clam and cold, her breath staggering and stuttering, and her lips opened to whisper. ”I am...”

The world around Tivon faded, drawing him into her consciousness, into her mind, and she pulled him in further and further until the images became vivid and distinct. Trees and branches gliding past his eyes, moving faster and lifting higher until he saw the face of their mother, painted only from thin branches against an autumn sky.

_I must share something with you...._ , she whispered weakly and he fell, down, down,  _down_ toward the stem and root of the trees where the ground was full of leaves and foliage that was brown and wilting.  _I am fading._

The trees turned grey, ashen, _cold_ and slowly parted, moved aside as he was pulled forward, deeper into the chilling breeze of a foreboding shadow. Jerking, pulling, taunt...The images rushed by, a circle of leaves leading the way in the swirl of wind and then...

Sky. Above the clouds, showered in the dim of sunlight, golden and light and there, the shadow of a dragon as it floated before him and out of sight. A beacon of light burst from beneath the clouds, a pillar of white that shot up higher and higher when another joined, and another, and _another_ , so clear and bright and beautiful that Tivon held his breath.

The dragon glided through the air, around the pillars of light, almost anxious, avoiding, yet lurking, and in the stream of light Tivon saw the glimmer of something golden, a round, glittering object and the edges of his vision crystallised as if he was watching through a clear, smooth diamond.

The sound of crystal shattering, of bursting...his vision swam with gold and purple and light....and there it was again when he drifted lower. Round, no, oval, glowing brightly amidst sharpened, purple crystals. The crystals grew larger, larger, broke and shattered with a loud clattering noise and Tivon was pulled back, away and further until vines and thorns obstructed his view from the object, the light painted only faintly against the darkness of branches and coppice.

The vines curled in tightly around themselves, drawing him back, keeping him away, snarling and drawing together to block the passage through. The light waned with each second, each second that he was pushed away until only darkness remained and in that darkness Tivon felt the presence once again, growling faintly, and he was pulled from the vision with a start.

The Pale Tree lay unconscious against his shoulder and Tivon stared down at her, suddenly feeling cold and afraid. He was cut off from her consciousness and yet he had always felt her warmth...was this what she had meant? That she could not protect him forever? It felt like being stranded on a cold island amidst hip-deep snow without a step to take.

The sudden roar of the Shadow of the dragon made him whirl his head around and he saw Sgileas struggling, scythe lifted with both hands into the air to block the dragon's massive snout, but Sgileas' feet scrapped over the ground as he was pushed back.

Tivon lifted his still glimmering hand toward the dragon and focussed, imagined it long before he felt it – _an ant under a magnifying glass beneath sunlight, blinded and scorched –_ and a beam of light weaved around Sgileas form, bringing the rims of his silhouette to glow brightly in dazzling and blinding light. There was a burst when Tivon pushed the power even _further_ , the flames blazing and gushing to the sides and catching on the dragon's skin.

Flames of blue and white began to cascade over its bark in a conflogration, pulsing and coming to life in a salve . The flames caught on twigs and branches and spreading over the dragons back, setting it alight with an unnatural, bright glow that had Tivon squint his eyes against the blinding brightness. The bough, even though the flames reached high and wide, remained untouched and unaffected.

The dragon pulled its head back, wailing and screeching loudly and twisting its long neck from side to side in an attempt to shake the flame off. When it could not open its eyes to the brightness, it pulled its long neck through the window in the bough and fled, long, drawn legs extending and pushing away from the Pale Tree and taking flight, leaving only scratch marks where it had clung to the bough.

It roared loudly – whether in defiance or in pain, Tivon could not discern – and disappeared into the dark night sky like a shooting star, wings flapping deafeningly loud and fading only slowly. The bough oscillated for a few moments longer, the branches ached and creaked over their heads, and then everything went still.

Sgileas stared at the white and blue flames outlining his body. There was a pulse of warmth and rejuvenation, the flames licking at small wounds and scraps, closing them in an instant. When the necromancer turned he searched with his eyes for the Druid and their gaze held.

Tivon was kneeling on the ground, his hand slowly lowering down toward his side, his other arm holding the Avatar of the Pale Tree to his chest. He met Sgileas gaze evenly and then turned to look at the Pale Tree's body and shifted his arm with so much care in fear that the Pale Tree might break and shatter like glass under his fingers.

“Mother?”, he whispered, and Sgileas was at his side the next instant, kneeling down beside him. He had not heard Sgileas move, but he had seen the glow from the flames that still lingered and outlined Sgileas' form, but they were shrinking and sinking into Sgileas skin as if his bark absorbed the magic and fed on it until the soft light waned and disappeared, leaving them in only the dim of the bough and Tivon's form that glowed from within.

“What happened?”, Sgileas demanded to know, trying not to stare at Tivon's skin. The necromancer was almost afraid that if he attempted to touch Tivon's shoulder, his hand would sink right through to the universe painted onto his skin; a one way door. An irrational fear, he told himself, but he could not help the reverence with which he regarded Tivon now.

“I tore away the corruption.”, Tivon explained contemplatively. “But she was weakened by Mordremoth's attack...and she fainted after she showed me a vision.”

Sgileas eyes snapped up toward him, cold and uncompromising, as if Tivon was to blame for her absence. “What did she show you?”, the Necromancer asked.

“There was the dragon and pillars of light. Crystals and...a golden shape.” Tivon averted his eyes. “I am sorry.” He was apologizing for his lack of strength, the fact that he could not explain any better what he had seen. That she had fallen unconscious after drawing her last bit of strength to show him a vision he did not even understand.

Sgileas waited for a moment before he spoke again. “It...is not your fault.”, the necromancer murmured more softly and hesitantly laid a hand atop Tivon's shoulder and squeezed it. For a moment his fear prevailed, only until he realized that he could feel the power weaving softly through Tivon's bough and slowly diminishing.

The rest was filled with silence in which the pattern drained from Tivon's skin, leaving his usual and familiar ashen color behind, and as the power waned Tivon felt abruptly tired and exhausted, barely able to keep himself from falling over, as if the state sapped and drained his strength as it disappeared. Sgileas hand squeezed a bit harder, keeping his swaying form in place.

“Are you-”, Sgileas began, but suddenly Kas' voice pierced through the heavy silence of the bough.

“I've re-established the portal!”, Kas cheered and the portal came alive with a flicker of purple and not a second after a warden came through who glanced around in horror, until his eyes fell toward Tivon and Sgileas who knelt on the ground together, the Pale Tree in between.

“Mother!”, the warden called and pushed in between them, reaching out for the Avatar's body without a question raised. “Quickly! She hurts and needs mending!”, the warden yelled and not a second after the firstborn Aife appeared and rushed to the warden's aid with a worried expression. Her eyes lingered on Tivon and Sgileas who both slowly stood and moved out of the way, and she at least gave them one grateful nod before she knelt down and set her leaf-pouch on the ground.

Tivon stepped back and watched, but he felt as if he had been pulled out of himself and... _tired_. “Come.”, Sgileas murmured and pulled him along with a tug on his shoulder. Tivon obeyed, grateful for the support of Sgileas hand and his staff and waded through the portal in a haze. He blinked against the sudden brightness and noticed that the Representatives, their protectors and their friends were all assembled here, and not too far away the path and plane was strewn with mordrem bodies.

“Sgileas.”, Trahearne said and stepped forward, and the worry alleviated somewhat from his features. The yellow gleaming eyes scanned the necromancer over for injuries, but Sgileas wounds had already closed when he'd been wrapped in Tivon's magic.

“I am alright.”, Sgileas said and the hand from Tivon's shoulder fell away. “We beat back the dragon, for now. Unfortunately it got away before we could kill it.“

Tivon tried to listen and clung to his staff with two trembling hands instead, leaning on it with some of his body weight. Sgileas words seemed to fade into the distance like an echo and he began to sway like an old willow that bent in the wind, softly at first, then more strongly. He tried to keep on his feet, but it felt as if his shoulders and body were a stone pulled along by an avalanche, pulling him down, _down_...

“Oi!”, a voice came abruptly and Tivon felt a hand quickly grabbing around his back, fingers curling around his shoulder in a secure grip and there was a loud clatter when his staff fell to the ground. His body was yanked upright and Tivon startled and blinked up in confusion, noticing Braham's worried gaze when he turned his head. “Woah there.”

“I'm...”, Tivon began, but his head was spinning, or was it the Grove that was spinning? He closed his eyes against the nausea. It only got worse. “I'm fine.”, Tivon mumbled and forced his eyes open. He was so _tired_. He didn't remember a time where he had been this tired before.

_Waters against a sandy shore, rushing in the distance, head thrumming and throbbing, a figure kneeling beside his supine body and throwing a shadow over him, moonlight outlining dark leafs and a silhouette in the night. “Rest easy now, Tivon.”, a voice said. “Come morning, you'll forget.”_

“You don't look fine.”, Braham frowned and the others appeared behind him. Tivon had not even heard them approach.

“What happened up there?”, Rox asked with furrowed eyebrows, her tail swishing nervously when she took in the sight of him. She looked ready to lunge forward and catch him, body tense and wound up like a spring.

“Much?”, Tivon brought out and attempted to push away, to stand on his own two legs and the fingers on his shoulder flexed reflexively to hold onto him. He lifted his hand feebly, fingers curling around part of Braham's forearm to have anything to hold on to. When he closed his eyes it felt both relieving and maddening, because the world continued to spin as if it's axis had been broken, but his body could admit to the exhaustion that sapped him dry. He took a few long drawn breaths, but each exhale seemed to leave him breathless.

“Tiv.”, a voice said. “Hey, you OK?” Tivon registered barely that it was Braham's voice.

“Tiv?”, Kas asked urgently; he could hear her panic and worry. He did not meant to worry them. He was _fine_. He just needed to...to...

To...what? Rest, maybe. Yes, rest sounded good. His eyelids felt heavy and continued to drift shut until he could no longer remember why he was keeping them open.

“Tiv? Hey.” His body was shaken and he opened his eyes. Had it always been this bright and fuzzy? _Keep it together_ , he thought and drew in a deep breath, collecting himself. Slowly he released Braham's forearm and nodded, as if that was any encouragement.

“I'm fine.”, he said, but his voice sounded slurred, even to himself, so he tried again. “Just...exhausted.” Braham nodded in understanding and the hand fell from his shoulder, but the norn watched him tentatively.

“It's the Pale Tree.”, Sgileas explained behind him, and he could swear he felt those purple eyes bore into his back. “Tivon tore away part of Mordremoth's corruption, but she's hurt badly. She fell unconscious.”

“I...tried.”, Tivon brought out and his eyes stared at the ground between his feet, the trampled grass and the parched earth beneath the blades of green. When had it last rained? He tried to remember what raindrops felt like on his bark until his eyes glided toward his staff that lay on the ground still. _It will help me to stand_ , he thought dizzily. He took a step back, thinking to crouch down and grab it when the whole world blurred in a smear of colors. He swayed, tilting backwards -

“Careful, he's-!”, he heard Jory cry, and then he felt the falling sensation for a split second before warmth cradled his body. It reminded him of his time where he had dreamed, a time where he had rested beneath the Pale Tree's bough.

_I failed her_ , he thought.  _I failed her. By the tablet, I told her we'd protect her. I told her she'd be safe. I failed her. I failed Mother._

“Hey.”, a voice said. “Hey, Tiv. Tiv!”

_You have a good heart, Tivon,_ a voice echoed from somewhere far in the back of his head. 

His body grew pliant and languid, losing all tension and strength. His head fell against something soft and warm, almost plushy, his eyes long since drifted shut.

_Brightness of day, the sun filtering through the leafs and branches of a tree that cast a protective, dancing, cool shadow, a warm smile, the scent of lavender._

There was no scent of lavender now. He smelled burning coals and sunlight, smelled leather and musk. It smelled... _warm_. Did that make any sense? To him it did.

“We need a medic!”, a female voice yelled shrilly, but Tivon did not realize that it was for him. He let out a breath and sank into the warmth, letting the exhaustion softly tug him from reality into sleep.

 


	34. Reunion with the Pact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for feels? For character bonding and friendship that will make you cry? Gather your tissues and chocolate people, take your fluffiest blanket and maybe some wine for the fuzzes. Feelings inbound! You have been warned <3  
> Now enjoy!

“I heard them.”, Rox' voice pushed through Tivon's hazy and clouded mind. “She's sending Canach over to espionage. What other reason would she have to send him to the Pact?”

Tivon blinked his eyes open in confusion and shifted. His head was cushioned by something soft and his back ached. When he attempted to turn there was the sound of wood scrapping over floor and he heard heavy steps approaching. _Heavy boots_ , he thought and glanced up as Braham's figure nearly covered him in shadow from the fire that crackled in the hearth. The norn sat down on the side of the bed, bending it significantly.

“How you doing?”, Braham asked, eyes trailing over Tivon with both frown and worry.

Tivon sat up carefully, half expecting a lecture that he should take it easy and lie back down, but it never came. “Better.”, Tivon murmured and rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, what's 'better' after being 'fine'?”, Braham asked with a grin and Rox punched the norn's shoulder lightly.

“Take it easy. He's only just waking.”, she chided the norn and then glanced at him. “There's a lot of work waiting for us.”

Braham rolled his eyes. “And you're telling  _me_ to take it easy?  _You're_ already pushing.”

“I am being direct and _realistic_.”, she defended herself. 

“Guys.”, Tivon groaned. “You bicker like a married couple.”

That got both of them to shut up for a moment and the gave him aghast looks, until both of them began to laugh. “Yeah, sorry.”, Braham chuckled. “That aside, we have to decide what to do now.”

Tivon squeezed his legs between Braham's bulk and the free space of the mattress, slowly swinging them over the side of the bed. “What happened after I...”, he began, and Braham finished,

“Fainted?”

A dead-panned look. “I didn't faint.”

“Like a damsel.”

Braham and his shit-eating grin. Tivon couldn't help but chuckle and shook his head. “Fine, like a damsel. So?”

“Jory held Kas back from bringing all the Menders in at once.”, Rox chuckled. “She was really worried, and then Sgileas told us all about what happened. How the portal failed, how the Pale Tree was injured and that you attempted to heal her, that the two of you fought back the dragon.”, her eyes gleamed, and Tivon wondered if it was awe or envy. “I mean, _a dragon_.”

“I...didn't do much.”, Tivon amended.

“Sgileas said you forced it to retreat. How'd you do it?”, Rox wondered, clearly eager for a heroic story, perhaps for expertise with the bow.

“I...”, Tivon began and stared at his hands, turned the palms up. He _didn't know_. The silence stretched as he attempted to put it into words before he finally looked up in defeat. “I don't know.”

“What do you mean? You remember the fight, right?”

“Yes, that...I remember. Just... I don't know how to explain what happened. I think something...unlocked? I am not sure.”

“That light.”, Braham remembered, and Tivon had to crane his neck to look up at him. “That was you, wasn't it? The Commander is all dark and death magic. He'd never shoot light.”

“Yes.”, Tivon nodded his head, the branches at the back of his neck moving softly over his neck and shoulder as he did. “That was me.”

“Cool.”, Rox grinned. “So you can shoot light now?”

Tivon looked down at his hands again, clenching and unclenching them, attempting to bring that state back again. He thought of the stars, the desperation he had felt, the sudden  _clarity,_ but his skin remained ashen. Frustration crawled up his spine and it must have shown on his face because Rox suddenly said,

“It's fine. Don't exert yourself.”

“Whatever you did, it knocked you out. Least that's what the Commander told us.”

That much was true, at least. “Yeah.”, he murmured. He wondered how much time had passed, how long he had been sleeping; a glance toward the window offered little information. The curtains were drawn and it was dark outside...which could mean about anything. Half a day, a whole day...

“Kas and Jory went to the Dormand Priory to uncover anything they can about Mordremoth and its minion. Best to be prepared, Jory said.”, Rox told him.

“It was the Shadow of the Dragon.”, Tivon murmured with his eyes downcast. “I saw it in my Dream.”

Braham stiffened beside him. “What do you mean you saw it?”, Braham asked, eyes furrowing once again, but this time, there was anger there, too. “You foresaw this happening?”

“No.”, Tivon quickly corrected. “It was not a premonition. It was... a presentimet and vanguard to the exigency with which Mordremoth needs to be defeated.” The darkness in his Dream that he and his companions had wandered into must have meant this. The _Shadow of a dragon._ The Pale Tree had betokened that Sgileas had seen the Shadow of the Dragon in his Dream as well. Tivon was not alone in this, but the additional credibility his Dream gained from that left him with trepidation rather than limpidity.

“I don't understand.”, Braham said. “Why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you tell us?”

Tivon was not sure how to answer. There was an unspoken allegation in Braham's tone that Tivon wanted to diffuse. “Dreams and visions are vague, at best. Some sylvari dream of a purpose, and I dreamed of wandering into the maguuma jungle toward the darkness looming and lurking there.”

Braham stood abruptly and Tivon noticed that Rox and the norn exchanged a glance. Rox looked almost as if saying  _“Come on, be reasonable.”_ , but Tivon could not see Braham's answering glare, just the tense, pulled up shoulders and the terse flexing of the norn's fingers. 

“We need to go after Mordremoth's Champion.”, Tivon continued, his eyes glued onto Braham's back. “We need to go to the Maguuma jungle.”

“We'll go with you.”, Rox agreed immediately and Tivon was glad to hear it and wondered why the atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed to tense and ready to blow by a single spark. “I'll let Kas and Jory know and they'll meet us in the Silverwastes. I hear the Pact has made their forward camp there.”

“That is perfect.”, Tivon said. There he could also speak to Trahearne and Sgileas, and perhaps they could help him decipher what this new vision meant that the Pale Tree had shown him. His Dream and the vision did not obviate one another; if anything, it felt as if he had finally been shown the other half of his purpose and still he was none the wiser to uncover its meaning.

Derry had shattered; that part of his Dream had already come true. The shadow had fallen over them all with Mordremoth's awakening and all the havoc it left in it's wake. The pillars of light...were they a glimmer of hope? And what was the oval shape inside the light? A crystal? A powerful, magical artifact?

He startled when he heard Braham's thundering boots, the slam of the door and then eerie, echoing silence. Rox was staring at the door, shoulder sagging and a sigh escaping her before she turned toward him fully.

“Did I...do something?”, he asked hesitantly, and Rox shook her head and sat down beside him where Braham had been not a minute before.

“Not...exactly.”, she explained carefully and when she leaned forward the lucky charms around her neck fell from her tunic into the firelight, blinking brightly. Her green eyes were as gentle as ever, but she looked contemplative and slightly hesitant, as if searching for the right words. “Ever since you've returned there have been so many things going on, and sometimes it feels like you are not telling us everything.”

Tivon nodded in understanding and averted his eyes. His visions were so deeply implanted in his mind, they were part of him, _his purpose,_ and it was all-too easy to forget that his friends knew nothing of them.

It was a burden and privilege, to catch glimpses of a future he was meant to shape. The weight of it was atop his shoulders, and he had never thought to share his visions in explicit detail with his most trusted friends even though they were the ones who _needed_ to know because they shared this journey with him.

How had he managed to keep this to himself? When had _I'll tell them_ turned into _It is my burden?_ He was not alone in this, and suddenly he understood why Braham was angry and frustrated.

“I am sorry.”, he murmured. “I do not mean to keep anything from you. If there is anything you wish to know, all you have to do is ask.”

“I doubt that's Braham's problem.”, Rox grinned and Tivon was glad that somehow, she was not affected as Braham was. Braham was straight-forward; if he did not understand something, he'd say it. Tivon sighed and rubbed his temple. There was a slight headache settling into the back of his head, thrumming and throbbing. “I think he's just angry that he couldn't help with the dragon. We were stranded down there, just as you were up there in the chamber. We could only watch helplessly when the dragon assaulted you through the bough, and we had no way of knowing what was going on. Kas was scrapping herself raw to make a new portal, Braham was ready to built a catapult and Taimi ready to mine the rocks. Jory kept us under control, thankfully. She was the one who kept us together when you weren't there.”

_When you weren't there._

He had never thought about his part in the group before, but now that he did...he was their leader. In the beginning it had been him because he'd known all of them, because he had been able to track people down, because he'd brought them together.

Now...now they called him _Boss_ jokingly, but only now did he realize that they _meant_ it. As much of a privilege as their trust was, it was also sobering. He was responsible for them, for their well-being. They were his friends.

He wondered what he would have done had the places been reversed at the summit. If somehow his friends were in mortal peril and he could do nothing but watch. The _horror_ of the scenario alone sent shivers along his spine, and it was suddenly crystal clear how many layers added to his friends' frustration.

“Most of us don't get it, you know.”, Rox continued hesitantly but gently and rubbed the back of her long, furred neck in a nervous gesture. The lucky charms chimed softly as she moved. “Why you insist on doing this to yourself.”

_This_ . Meaning his state, him being Soundless. 

_Why you hold on to a painful memory. Why you love him, still, after what he did to you. Why you hold on. Why you can't let go. Why you won't._

Tivon opened his mouth to answer, but Rox shook her head and raised a hand in a gesture for him to let her continue. “I think I do. Well, sort of.” She chuckled, but her eyes were sad, trapped in a distant, painful memory of her own. “But Braham doesn't. And all he and Kas want to do is wrench  _his_ neck and tear his head from his shoulders, you know? If you suddenly found out Jory was some Separatist attempting to win Kas over and breaking her heart, how would you feel?” Before Tivon could answer, she continued. “We never even knew the guy. He was just suddenly there. Just like that. And he took you from us.”

Silence settled over them, both of them trapped in that time, in the moment back then. He'd never asked how his friends had felt; all he had thought was that they despised him for falling for an enemy, for a member of the Nightmare Court. He had been wrong, he knew that now, but he'd never bothered and asked to be corrected.

“I...did not want my feelings of despair to bleed into the Dream.”, Tivon told her. “It was strangling me to believe that I could put other, unknowing sylvari through my misery.”

“ _We_ cope, somehow.”, Rox answered, and she meant all others, all non-sylvari. “True, we have no connected conscience, and I won't pretend to understand how that even works, but I doubt that becoming detached solves anything. Heartbreak is not the end of the world, and you bear it like a patch of pride, as if you need to prove something.”

“It's..I am not doing this because I am _proud_.”, Tivon defended himself.

“No.”, Rox agreed. “No, you don't. You do it out of conviction and we're _with_ you. But you must understand that watching you put yourself through this, letting you do this to yourself, that's not easy. We're your friends, Tivon. We want to _help_.”

“Saving me from myself.”, Tivon murmured. They were trying to help him, save him from himself – and failing.

“We want to respect your decision, but on the other hand we want to help you find another way. That's how _we_ cope, you know? We live through it, we struggle, but we _make it through_.” She sighed and shook her head. “I'm sorry. This is not the time to address this. Our priority should be to deal with Mordremoth.”

“No.”, Tivon interjected and folded his hands, staring at his fingers as his thumps moved nervously. “Thank you for telling me.”

“We're not going anywhere. We're here if you need us.” Her green eyes gleamed with earnesty and he had trouble holding her gaze with the intense emotion that suddenly flickered to life in his chest.

“Thank you.”, Tivon breathed and barely found the words. They sat for a moment in silence, the only other sounds coming from the fire crackling once and again, before Tivon asked,“What do _you_ want to do?”

“With _him_?”, she clarified and raised an eyebrow when she turned her head. When he nodded she smiled, bearing and showing her talons. “Once Braham has his hands around his throat, I'll sneak in an arrow or two. Or three.”

Frostbite chittered beside her in agreement, and Tivon noticed that Kota and Frostbite lay curled up beside one another and that Kota looked up as if he did not understand what was going on.

Somehow, despite it all, he chuckled, and Rox smile widened. “Come on.”, she beckoned and stood, reaching her hand toward him. “Let's focus on the things that matter. That childish norn outside, for example. And that dragon. Remember?”

Tivon chuckled again. “I'll talk to him.”, Tivon took her hand and let her pull him up to his feet. It was only fair that he was the one to talk to Braham; it had been him that agitated the norn enough to leave. If this brought a wedge between them and their friendship, Tivon would hate himself for it.

“I assume he didn't go far. He's either uprooting trees near the shed outside or drowning in ale. Best check at the bar.”

Tivon nodded and made for the door, signalling for Vail and Kota to wait as he opened it. For a moment he hesitated, hand resting against the door handle and he turned to look over his shoulder. “Thanks, Rox.”, he said once again, and she waved him away with a gesture of her arm and a smile.

The floor smelled of old wood and faintly of ale; perhaps it was right to assume Braham was drinking rather than seeking to damage anything in proximity. The scent of drink must have caught in the norn's nose as much as it did in Tivon's, and that surely would have lead to one location before the other.

When Tivon reached the common room Braham sat at the bar, staring down into a cup of ale with a lot of foam on top, elbows resting on the bar. Tivon was quite sure that was not the first cup, and it might not be the last. Braham raised his eyes from his drink for an instant to look at him and then immediately averted his eyes with a grimace.

Tivon sat down beside him anyway, noticing that the chairs were far too small and not nearly long enough to compensate for Braham's huge form. They were quiet for a moment and Tivon did not even know how or where to begin, and perhaps it was best to start with what was most necessary.

“I'm sorry.”, he said earnestly and saw from the corner of his eyes that Braham didn't look up, didn't even flinch. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

Braham took a long pull from his drink and set it back down with a clank, not saying anything. Tivon took it as a good sign that the norn didn't get up and leave, so he continued.

“Once we gather Kas and Jory we can plan to assault Mordremoth, and we'll need to work together. We don't always agree, but we're a team.”

Braham grumbled in response. Perhaps that was a good sign, too.

“I'll tell you what I know about Mordremoth and...whatever it is that I discovered fighting that Shadow of the dragon. I'll tell you about my Dream. And...” _Him_ , Tivon wanted to say, but Braham spoke before he could finish.

“No.”, Braham cut in with a growl, eyes still glued to the liquid in his cup, which was already drained halfway. “I don't want to hear reasons for _not_ bashing his head in.”

Tivon nodded and his throat felt corded and tight, a shiver travelling over his spine. “Okay.”, he said a little helplessly.

The frustration and anger permeated the air once again, coming from Braham in stifling and chocking waves. One spark and Braham would ignite and most likely throw his ale through the common room, or worse, uproot the bar and throw the wooden plate.

Tivon thought it best to wait and gulped, waiting for the frustration to sizzle and ebb away. There was another moment of silence in which Braham idly turned the handle of his cup from one side to the other, and then, slowly, the norn opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I hate not doing anything.”, Braham admitted, voice low and full of self-hatred.

“We could not have known Kas' portal would fail.”, Tivon murmured soothingly. “And...I could not leave the Pale Tree behind. She was...”, Tivon took a deep breath and glanced away, toward the back of the common room which was mostly empty. “...it's complicated.”

“What is?”, Braham asked and looked up, eyes boring into the side of his face.

Tivon should have told his friends this long ago. He should not have kept this from him...from  _them_ . Even though he knew Braham might just throw a fit again, he decided to come out with it. “Sylvari have been immune to dragon corruption.”, he began, and Braham was listening intently, gaze never wavering. “But...Mordremoth affects us. It affected the Pale Tree. It...” Tivon took a deep breath. “I can hear it, sometimes. In my head. Calling out to me.”

“ _What?_ ”, Braham asked sharply, almost yelling, startling the bartender who made himself scarce into a room at the back in haste, the glass he'd been cleaning clanking atop the shelf. “Are you telling me the Elder dragon is in your head right now?”

“No!”, Tivon protested quickly. “Well, not always.” _By the Pale Tree,_ the look Braham gave him was nothing short of _horrified_. “It's...I think that is what happened to Scarlet. She entered Omadd's machine and it opened the All to her, the Eternal alchemy entwined with the natural flow of energies and dragons, and with that, she opened her mind. The Pale Tree's protection fell away.”

Slowly, realization dawned upon Braham's face and the norn straightened. “You...”, Braham brought out. “You went into the machine.”

“Yes.”, Tivon nodded and could almost feel as the trepidation set around his throat like a noose.

“So, you're telling me...” Braham began, “that Mordremoth was the voice in Scarlet's head? In Aerin's?”

“I think so.”

“What...does that mean for you, exactly?”

“I don't know.”, Tivon answered truthfully. “If... If I should slip, Mordremoth might take over, like he did with Scarlet and Aerin. Command my actions. Or read my thoughts.”

“Why didn't you _tell us_?”, Braham asked sharply and desperately and leaned forward, inching closer. the scent of ale wafting into Tivon's nose. “Tivon, you're basically telling me you're a time-bomb, ready to go off.”

“No.”, Tivon corrected and wondered if Braham didn't believe that he could resist Mordremoth's influence. “As long as I can keep my head clear and focussed, I can keep Mordremoth at bay.”

“Shit.”, Braham cursed and brought a hand through his red hair, strands sifting through his fingers. “By bears hide, that's...you don't _know_ that, Tivon.”

That struck Tivon, because Braham wasn't wrong. Tivon did not know if Mordremoth's call might grow stronger, he didn't even know if it could be resisted, much less resisted forever. He has simply believed that it was possible, hadn't even dared to think that he might not be strong enough. “Then we have to take it down faster.”, Tivon jested lightly and Braham snorted, but the norn was not looking at him.

Had he pushed him away with this? How could he expect for Braham to trust in him when he did not trust himself to see this through?

“I can do this.”, Tivon said and placed his hand atop Braham's upper arm and was grateful that the norn did not twitch or move away. That might have broken his resolve. “I know I can.” _But I need you to believe in me, too_.

Braham met his eyes slowly and for a few thoughtful seconds. Thoughts crossed and churned, Braham's features unreadable until the norn finally spoke. “Don't worry, Tiv.”, Braham said. “We'll get that Elder Dragon before it knows what's coming.”

Tivon had not noticed how tense he had been, how his other hand had tersely clawed at the bar, how his shoulders had drawn up, how he had watched and waited apprehensively for Braham's answer. Now that he herd the words he relaxed in relief.

“And you tell us.”, Braham continued sternly, voice lower and dark, and it was with such a serious tone Tivon felt trapped and held down. “If it gets too much... If that dragon gets into your head...”

“You'll be the first to know.”, Tivon promised, voice low and almost hushed, and Braham held his gaze for a few more agonizing seconds, both of them making a promise for an unknown future. What Braham would do...no, what he would _have to do_ if Tivon failed to resist Mordremoth's call hung in the air like a guillotine, unspoken and yet so very clear. Dark enough that neither dared say it out loud.

_What do humans sometimes say?_ , Tivon thought.  _Don't jinx it._

“Hey!”, Braham roared and turned his head toward the side, and Tivon flinched at the sudden loudness, retracting his hand with a start. After just a few seconds the bartender resurfaced from a room behind the bar, peeking through the door. “Bacon, bread, and eggs. Oh, and more of this.” Braham lifted his cup.

“Perhaps...you've had enough?”, Tivon asked carefully and Braham scoffed.

“Fine.”, the norn grumbled. “But I'll take some extra eggs for that instead. And _you're_ buying.”

Tivon chuckled. “Alright.”

The bartender disappeared and Tivon was glad that whatever the human man muttered under his breath did not reach his ears. Braham looked at his cup contemplatively, the foam clinging to the edges of the cup, slowly circling when Braham turned it around and around.

“During the fight...”, Tivon began and Braham glanced up. “The Pale Tree showed me a vision.”

“Ugh.”, Braham made and brought a hand to brush over his forehead. “You sylvari and your dreams and visions. Next thing you'll transcend into another plane of existence or something.” There was a short pause in which Tivon felt stiff once again until Braham spoke. “The others need to know this just as well.”, the norn said and when he turned his head to look at Tivon, his blue eyes piercing like crystals. “You'll tell them. No more secrets.”

Tivon nodded. “I will.”

Braham held his gaze until the bartender broke in between putting down a plate with Braham's order. The clank startled them both and Braham made a rumbling noise somewhere in his chest before he took the fork and began chewing on his meal. “So.”, he said with a mouthful of bread and stuffed some more bacon inside before gulping it all down with one last swipe of ale. “What's this vision of yours about?”

“I am not sure.”, Tivon admitted and rested his arms on the bar, leaning forward slightly. The smell of food reached his nose and his stomach clenched uncomfortably. He tried to remember the last time he had eaten and couldn't. Best not to dwell on it. “There was the Shadow of the Dragon, pillars of gold above clouds and an something oval shaped, glistening in the stream of light. And...crystals. Lots of crystals. And Mordremoth...”

Tivon remembered it vividly. Pulling away from the shape and stream of light, being pushed out, vines and thorns curling in around each other and keeping him out. Darkness slowly taking in. He was brought back from his reverie when he noticed that Braham waited with an increasing frown.

“...it tried to keep me away.”, Tivon finished. “I don't know why the Pale Tree showed me this, or what she is trying to tell me.”

“Sounds more figurative than literal.”, Braham shrugged.

“She wouldn't have shown this to me if it was not important.”, Tivon murmured, more to himself than Braham. “It took all of her remaining strength to show me. When I came to, she was unconscious.”

“Maybe it was an allusion to your new light-shooting abilities.”

“The pillars of light in my vision were golden. The fire I conjured was white and blue.”

“What was it, anyway?”, Braham asked and shoved an egg into his mouth, munching with a pleased expression. Food did seem to make the norn happy, Tivon noticed.

“I think it was astral energy.”, Tivon explained carefully. “I drew it from the stars themselves.”

“The stawhrs.”, Braham repeated with a full mouth.

“I know.”, Tivon sighed. “It sounds esoteric. And besides: Sgileas wore the dragon down long before I even attempted to attack it. It was already weakened. What I did was little in comparison.”

Braham shrugged. “I don't know. I wasn't there.” Tivon saw the frustration and thoughtfulness in Braham's features, but before he could speak, Braham continued, “Thank the wolf you didn't finish it off. I've got this tingling in my fingers; maybe I'll get another chance and it's not the last time we've seen that dragon.”

“If it's Mordremoth's champion, I am sure we'll cross paths with it again eventually.”, Tivon agreed and Braham grinned.

“I'll keep my mace ready. Next time we'll get it together.”, Braham vowed and Tivon smiled.

“Yeah, we will.” Come to think of it, Tivon had never asked, but now he wondered. “Why a mace?”

“Sorry?”, Braham looked up, frowning.

“I mean,”, Tivon quickly put in, “I'm sure you could wield a greatsword just as well, or a sword with a shield. Why a mace?”

“As a kid I grew up with Yngvi Rugnar and Brynhildr in Cragstead.”, Braham began and Tivon eased into his chair, rapt with attention. “I let out my anger on them. I used to have this wooden club as a kid, and the raw strength and power was somewhat palliating for that anger. As a kid it felt like _accomplishing_ something, even if it was just smashing wooden straw-dummies and furniture.”

“Anger?”, Tivon asked softly.

“I was raised by my father before Yngvi and Brynhildr took me in. On his deathbed he told me who my mother was...and knowing made me frustrated. I didn't understand why she had gone, why she had left me and father. I was angry at her for leaving.” Braham looked thoughtful and Tivon did not dare interrupt the process of thought. “The mace relieved some anger, and growing up away from Hoelbrak meant our resources were more limited and we had to look after ourselves. We chopped our own wood, we build our own homes and we hunted ourselves. I'm not bad with a bow, but I can't for the life of me wield a sword. My trainer used to tell me I have 'the finesse of a tree trunk'.”

Tivon chuckled at that. “Because you were unmoving and broad?”

“Because I didn't bother with cuts. I just smacked the blade until it either broke or the enemy fled. One time I flung the handle after a fellow hunter who trained with me.”, Braham shook his head with a mirthful smile. “Yngvi couldn't stop laughing.”

“Did you hit him with it?”

Braham grinned broadly. “What do you think?”

Tivon startled when Rox joined beside him, settling into the chair with a few twists of her torso. “Interjecting myself.”, she announced with a smile. “I sent word to Kas and Jory and asked them to meet us in the Silverwastes.”, she told them. “So, what's the plan, exactly?”

It was a rather sudden turn to fall back from the conversation he and Braham had just had. How had he never asked Braham or Rox or Kas or even _Jory_ what their lives were like? How did he, as a leader, and more importantly, as a _friend_ , not know what their struggles were? What they had to go through to be here?

He made a mental note to delve deeper into that.

“We should talk to Trahearne and Sgileas.”, Tivon suggested. “They can help me decipher the vision, and we can help the Pact in their assault. They've fought an elder dragon before, they'll know what to do.”

Rox's eyes glanced him over with a frown and he blinked at her questioningly, and slowly her eyes rose to his face once again. “Tivon, when's the last time you have eaten?”, she asked. “You're as thin as a branch.”

Tivon fought the warmth that crept into his cheeks. “Well, technically -” He began, but he did not get to finish. Braham's broad hand came to rest on his shoulder and shook him once, twice, with enough force that his body swayed dangerously close to the edge of the chair, nearly knocking it over. He held onto the bar with his fingers and let out a huff when he finally settled into a more steady position. “What in the-”, he brought out and Braham shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. She's right. You're as light as a feather. Here. I'm done anyway.” Braham shoved his plate toward Tivon that was still filled to a third, and Tivon looked from Rox to his right to Braham on his left, assessing if perhaps they were joking, but they seemed serious.

“I'm not hungry.”, Tivon protested weakly.

“You're never hungry.”, Braham dead-panned. “We're about to head out to kill an Elder Dragon. No empty stomachs allowed. I'm not carrying you again when you faint.”

This time Tivon felt the warmth spread not only into his cheeks, but also his fingertips. “I didn't faint.”, he protested weakly, and Rox beside him laughed.

“Yeah, you did.”, she agreed with Braham. Now Tivon knew what 'ganging up on someone' meant. He turned his head toward the plate, ignoring both their mirthful glances and despite everything, he smiled as he took the fork into his hand.

_I have the worst best friends_ , Tivon thought.

  
  


Arriving in the Silvewastes was awe-inspiring. The Pact base was filled with large, metallic constructions, sheds and platforms looming high into the sky and built against the high canyons that brought long, dark shadows over the base. Above their heads were so many ships floating through and air and on the horizon Tivon could not be bothered to count.

The Pact members were all hurrying along, each and every single one of them too busy to notice the rather odd group. Kas and Jory were waiting near a large shed together with Taimi and her golem, Scruffy. During their journey here Tivon had noticed that Mordremoth's forces attempted to keep any reinforcements away from the Silverwastes and the Pact Base, but were not successful. Braham, Rox and him had melted through the vines with ease.

“Tivon!”, Kas gasped and closed in on them, her dress waving in a soft warm breeze. The sand sank in under her boots, and even though she wore so little, the sun seemed to get to her. She ran right into him, her arms curling around his back and she drew away before he could react. “How are you?”

“I am fine.”, he told her. “It was mere exhaustion, nothing more.”

“I'm glad. I don't think I've ever seen you faint like that.” He and Braham exchanged a look. _Told you so,_ the norn's seemed to say, and Tivon almost rolled his eyes. Then, Braham's face turned more serious and he folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Tell them.”, he said gruffly, and Tivon felt suddenly caught out like a thief that tried to steal away into the night.

“Tell us what?”, Kas asked and looked in between them, her forehead creasing with worry. “Did something happen?”

“There's...”, Tivon began and even if this had not been how he had wanted to tell them, it was as good a chance as any. “...a complication.”

Braham snorted. “That's putting it lightly.”

“Stop spinning the cheese wheel and tell us.”, Jory demanded with an annoyed roll of her eyes.

“Scarlet and Aerin both were sylvari.”, Tivon began. “Both cut themselves off from the Pale Tree. Their disconnection made them easy targets for Mordremoths influence and corruption. Scarlet especially after she entered Omadd's machine.”

“Okay.”, Jory said carefully, but her frown deepened. “That's...not exactly news.”

“I went into Omadd's machine.”, Tivon reminded her. “That means...”

Jory's eyes widened a fraction and it took Kas a moment longer to get it.

“Wait.”, Taimi interrupted. “Are you telling us that you're prone to becoming crazy?”

“Yes. And no.”

“You will have to explain that.”, Taimi dead-panned.

“Sylvari were immune to the Elder Dragon's corruption, up until now. When we were in Prosperity and Mordremoth attacked the village, I heard it for the first time.”

“Gods.”, Kas breathed.

“What did it say?”, Jory asked, and Tivon felt the cold glare of her eyes, the suspicion in her stance. She was wary of him now, and he did not blame her. He simply hoped he could convince her that he was no threat to her or their mission, that he would do anything in his power to keep Mordremoth at bay.

“' _Mine'_.”, Tivon repeated. “And...it told me what it was. That is why I knew its name.”

Jory massaged the bridge of her nose and closed her dark eyes for a brief moment before she took a deep breath. “So...what does that mean? What do we do?”

“If I am to resist the call I will need strength of will. There is my purpose and my meditation that ought to keep me from slipping.”

“And if they do not?”, Jory continued sharply.

Tivon resisted the urge to look over at Braham. “If I slip, I will let you know.”

“And what if you can't control that any longer? What if you just play along until you get a chance to back-stab us?”

It...should not hurt quite as much as it did to hear her doubting him like this. He reminded himself that this was Majory Delaqua, the famous investigator of Divinity's Reach with a rational and calculating mind.

“...You are right.”, Tivon admitted. “There is no guarantee.” Silence settled over them and Tivon glanced at each one of them. At Rox, at Taimi, at Kas and Jory. “If you think it safer to travel without me, I understand.” He didn't want to believe that he couldn't keep Mordremoth out. He didn't want to think that he might hurt his friends. Even if Jory didn't believe, he would, and he'd understand if she wanted to be on the safe side of things; he'd understand if she decided that he should stay away.

“No.”, Kas quickly jumped in, exchanging a quick glance with her girlfriend. “If Mordremoth is already in your head, then you need us. We're your friends. If we were to abandon you now we would not be able to help you. Pushing you away would not solve the problem; it would only make it worse.”

“Kas is right.”, Jory admitted with a nod of her head. “There's a risk, but...”

“Together we can get through this.”, Rox nodded. “We'll keep you on the right track. And who knows? With the Pact ready to assault Mordremoth, it might not have time to sweep through your head.”

“We're doing this together.”, Kas added with a smile. “You can count on us. And once Mordremoth is dealt with, there's nothing to worry about.”

Braham put a large hand on his shoulder, the norn's gaze intense and knowing as if Braham had anticipated that they would act so supportively. “We'll get Mordremoth. There's no way we'll let him get to you, too.”

Tivon felt...sheltered. Safe. Secure. A feeling he only ever knew from two places, and standing here among his friends, surrounded by them, having them around him during such a difficult turmoil that may have very well torn them apart...

“I won't fail you.”, Tivon vowed, and the words felt almost sacred. He owed them this; he owed them all the strength he had. All his strength to put up against the influence of an Elder Dragon and despite how great and completely impossible that sounded, he believed it. He believed that he could.

This was why Scarlet and Aerin had failed. They didn't have... _this_ . Friends. Reassurances. Family to shelter them away from the voice in their heads. The feeling of security, nobody to trust in them. Alone. And this was why Tivon would not...why he  _could not_ fail.

“Thank you.”, he whispered, and Kas answered with a bright smile and an embrace that pushed the air from his lungs, Rox's hand clasped on his back, and Taimi shook her head with a smile.

“Group hugs?”, she chided. “Whatever has become of us?”

The group laughed at her words heartily.

  
  


Sgileas watched from the command center, hands folded in front of his chest, purple eyes squinting at the group in the distance. “Find a place to lay those maps out. And get me a couple of charcoal sticks to mark them with.”, Trahearne said behind him, but Sgileas only looked over his shoulder and knew he was not the one being addressed.

“At once, sir!”, the priory scholar said, saluted and ran off.

“Has anyone heard from Commander Frostgullet?”, Trahearne asked and turned his head around to look at the last remaining agent. “She's late!”

“She's dealing with a problem on her ship, Marshal. The engines need maintenance.”, a whispers agent answered.

“Tell her to get someone else to do that. I need her here.”, Trahearne ordered, and the Whispers Agent set into motion.

“Right away.”, he said and rushed down the stairs, boots clanking on the metal until the sounds faded into relative silence.

Trahearne looked determined and fierce, the position of Pact Marshal so very clear not only from the way he held himself, but the way he commanded those around them. The firstborn was staring down at the map when he noticed Sgileas' stare and looked up. “Is something the matter?”, Trahearne asked and straightened from his bent forward position, his hands resting on the table.

“It feels...strange.”, Sgileas admitted slowly. “It is so quiet.”

Trahearne understood what he meant. It was not the here and now Sgileas meant. It was the Dream that pervaded their lives, the connection that bound them together tightly. Ever since the Pale Tree had been struck and lay unconscious, the connection had grown...quiet. Distant. Faded.

“Mordremoth. The Elder Dragon that spreads mental corruption.”, Trahearne cursed under his breath, the anger filling his voice and making the words taste bitter. “Our poor mother. This feeds my desire to stop this Elder Dragon in its tracks. It will know the burn of my wrath.”

Sgileas paused at that. Trahearne seldom ever let his emotions get the better of him; it was the many years of experience and confidence the firstborn held, but despite the many displays Sgileas had witnessed, even this was new. He stepped forward and beside the firstborn, grasped his arm in a gesture of comfort. “Don't let this consume you.”, Sgileas warned softly, and he was surprised himself that he was the one keeping the calm. “Do not leave caution behind in your hurry to take revenge.”

Trahearne looked at him with a thoughtful expression and sighed in resignation. “No.”, he murmured dejectedly, his anger deflating. “No, of course, you are right.” Slowly Trahearne placed his hand atop Sgileas' and squeezed it. “I have too many lives in my hands.”, the firstborn murmured and then looked at him once again. “Thank you for being the voice of reason.”

“I understand.”, Sgileas murmured. “I...am angry too. And just as determined.”

“I'll confess. This particular dragon inspires a dread in my heart that none other has. I've never felt so personally attacked. That it would go after her... It's unforgivable.”, Trahearne breathed, his gaze far, far away.

“Hey.” Sgileas tugged at his arm and Trahearne snapped back into reality. “We're here. We're together. We brought down _Zhaitan_.”

“We lost so many during that fight.”, Trahearne sighed. “I know we are preparing as best as we can. We're somewhat more ready than you and I were when we went after Zhaitan.”

“That should give you hope.”, Sgileas whispered and drew closer, face only inches away from Trahearne's, hands raised to cup the firstborn's cheeks. “We'll make it.”

Trahearne closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. It offered warmth and comfort, something he usually easily drew from the Dream. Now that it was weak and faint, he was glad for Sgileas stabilizing presence, and the fact that throughout this, Sgileas somehow managed to keep a cool head.

“I'm sorry.”, Trahearne whispered. “...and thank you.”

“Always.”, Sgileas hushed back and the kiss planted against Trahearne's cheek was so soft it tickled.

But once again there was no time for them. Someone cleared their throat and Sgileas glared over his shoulder to where a vigil crusader stood. Trahearne on the other hand seemed more composed than before and stepped toward the  side into view and Sgileas' hands slipped from his cheeks. “How are things progressing?”

“The northwest is overrun with Mordrem and strangling vines. The troops need reinforcements.”, the crusader reported.

“Tell Commander Quentyn to ready his ship.”, Trahearne issued and the Crusader saluted.

“Yes sir.”

Trahearne stared after the agent and before the firstborn could utter a word, Sgileas cut in. “I'll reinforce the missing squad.”, he volunteered. “Nobody else is available, and I am no good here.”

“Don't say that.”, Trahearne smiled. “You look breathtaking when you brood. Not to mention you keep the stragglers away who have nothing but trivial matters to present.”

Sgileas chuckled at that. “Breathtaking, is it?”

“You're the calm in this storm.”, Trahearne murmured, voice pitching lower when Sgileas stepped closer. “Be safe out there.”

“You know me.”, Sgileas smiled and inched closer, leaning toward Trahearne and bringing their lips so close together they were barely a hair's breath apart. “I don't do safe. I'll _make_ it safe.”

Trahearne chuckled against his lips and the sound faded into a sigh. Sgileas pulled him closer, hand resting on the small of Trahearne's back. No matter how many times he had this; no matter how many times he took all the kisses and savoured Trahearne's noises, it was never enough. It never would be.

He pulled away reluctantly before he could get lost in the sensation and stepped away, his hands gliding over the side of Trahearne's hip, the leaves of his armor rustling softly under his palm.

“I'll be back soon.”, Sgileas pomised and Trahearne nodded and watched as Sgileas turned and went down the steps and out of sight.

He hated sending Sgileas away. He hated watching him go. It reminded him painfully of the time of their last battle against Zhaitan where he had to send Sgileas off alone to face an unimaginable enemy.

_They both lay awake in the bed, silent. Waiting for the sunlight to filter through the curtain of the window, announcing the end to the blissful moment. Trahearne was nervous; more nervous than he ever remembered being, and when finally streaks of the sun glittered through the window and painted golden, blurry lines on the ground, Sgileas shifted and broke away from their embrace where they had languidly rested in each others arms. The sound of the bed creaking and the blanket rustling softly was all Trahearne heard and then it was quiet once more._

“ _Sgileas?”, he asked softly and saw the necromancers back facing toward him, feet planted on the floor. “Are you alright?”_

_Sgileas turned his head and beautiful, purple eyes met his own. “Why wouldn't I be?”, Sgileas asked back, in his eyes was sheer determination and force of will. “I will bring an end to this.”_

_Trahearne sat up and as the blanket drifted from his shoulders, he noticed how cold the air was. He suppressed a shiver. “I know.”, he said. “I know.”_

_Sgileas looked at him, tried to meet his eyes, but when Trahearne's gaze faded into a glazed stare, thoughts drifting away, he lifted his palm and rested it ever so gently on Trahearne's cheek. “I'll be fine.”, he murmured. “I'll make it.”_

_Trahearne leaned into the touch and inched closer, and Sgileas brought one leg back up onto the bed and turned his body toward him, answering with closeness all on his own. “I want to be at your side.”, Trahearne whispered. He hated himself for being unable to be there. He should be there. Sgileas had been at his side at all times, and now in the most crucial moment, Trahearne could not even return the favor. He felt like such a fool._

“ _I'm glad you're staying here.”, Sgileas whispered. “I know you'll be safe.”_

_Perhaps that was worst of all. That Trahearne would remain behind, safely in Fort Trinity, while Sgileas fought the final battle._

“ _Don't look like that.”, Sgileas chided softly. “How would I find the strength to leave if you look at me like that?”_

_Trahearne was looking at him with worry, concern and supplication. He closed his eyes in an attempt to bring his features under control and thankfully, he managed to take a deep breath and level his expression somewhat. When he opened his eyes again Sgileas was watching him, looking for the signs of supplication, but Trahearne held strong._

_Sgileas smiled. “Beautiful.”, he whispered and pressed his lips against Trahearne's in a kiss that was soft, chaste, sacred. As if he wanted to commit this to memory so he would never forget. Trahearne kissed him back with equal care and affection until Sgileas broke free. Their eyes met for a moment longer and slowly, Sgileas backed away, drawing his body from the bed._

_Trahearne could do nothing but watch as Sgileas pulled over his robe and straightened it with a swipe of his hand, and then the necromancer turned toward him. “I won't be long.”, Sgileas smiled. “You'll see.”_

“ _Be safe.”, Trahearne rasped out and Sgileas hesitated for a moment, but if he had approached the bed and leaned down to kiss Trahearne one last time, he was not so sure he wouldn't stay. The ship was waiting for him, the Pact was waiting for him, no, all of_ Tyria _was waiting for him, now._

_So all he could do was nod and once he slipped out the door he took a deep breath and marched on – to the final battle._

Some mornings, Trahearne would wake, and for a moment, he would be afraid that when he looked out the window he would see the world destroyed. That view was so clear in his head, and it was the most desolate feeling he'd ever had. Trahearne closed his eyes.  _ He'll be safe,  _ he thought to himself, repeating it over and over. He needed that to become truth more than breathing, more than keeping his body to function. 

He needed it more than anything else.

  
  


“Sgileas.”, Tivon called out when he saw the necromancer in the distance. Sgileas looked stern and concentrated, almost as if he was ready to storm out the Pact base into the Silverwastes and bring about Mordremoth's worst nightmare, and the necromancer turned his head and came to a halt, waiting for Tivon and the others to approach.

“Tivon.”, Sgileas said blandly, eyes scanning over his body briefly. “I see you are recovered.”

“Of course.”, he answered. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

“I am heading out to offer reinforcements to one of our missing squads. It should be a trivial matter and I will be in no need of assistance. Talk to Trahearne; he'll have a task for you, I am sure. There's still much more that needs to be done before we are ready.”

Tivon nodded. “Alright. Safe travels.” Sgileas gave a curt inclination of his head and then walked off, his robe fluttering in a soft breeze, scythe in its usual place in its holster on his back. No matter how many times Tivon saw him, he'd never get used to the sheer power that permeated the air around the necromancer.

“Wait, I have more questions!”, Taimi cried and the whole group turned around in surprise; the asura had wandered off toward a group of three Zephyrites that carried backpacks, ready to move out. “I need to know: was Aerin working for Scarlet?”, she asked.

“Not to my knowledge, miss, although I suppose it's possible.”, one of them answered. She wore a purple robe. “I never met any of his friends.”

“Then what are you doing here?”, Taimi continued to ask with a frown, and without her golem she had to crane her neck immensely to look up at them.

“We came...looking for a safe place to land.”, another answered hesitantly. The three glanced at one another and made to turn, but Taimi interrupted again.

“Wait! You can't just leave after saying that.”, she insisted. “Why would he attack you? You never did anything to hurt him, did you?”

“Of course not! We welcomed him into our fold. But he grew violent.”, the one with the purple robe protested and finally, Tivon and the others drew closer.

“It started with episodes of confusion and aggression.”, the woman in the yellow robe added.

“We had just decided to confine him when...”, the third murmured, but trailed off, and Taimi continued, “

“So, where's the Master of Peace now?”

As if suddenly reminded of their task, the purple one turned away. “We need to find him.”

“Excuse me!”, Taimi called as they turned away, and then louder when she didn't get a reaction and they began walking away. “Excuuuuse me!” The three stopped and turned around again, and Tivon could see that they were on an urgent mission. “No, wait! Why would he go off alone?”

“We...believe...”, the woman in yellow began and hesitantly searched for eye-contact with her peers.

The purple one chimed in, “We believe he's still searching for a place where we can all be safe.”

Taimi frowned. “We saved him. We tracked Aerin through the wastes and found him before he could kill your master.

“That was you, huh? We found Aerin's corpse and assumed the master had killed him.”, the woman in purple said in surprise.

“Nope, it was the boss and me—and the others, too.”, Taimi pointed behind herself where Tivon and the others stood. “We trapped him inside Spurbend Canyon and fought him there.”

“We are profoundly grateful to you, miss. To all of you.”, the woman in yellow said and inclined her head in gratitude.

“I am sorry to intrude, but I would like to know more of Aerin, if you would.”, Tivon said and stepped forward. “He was Soundless, we believe.”

“He was open—almost obsessive—about that.”, the woman in purple replied. He claimed his connection to the Pale Tree and your Dream made him less of an individual. He called you all "the hive." I don't believe he meant to flatter.”

“In your opinion, did he show any signs of corruption by an Elder Dragon?”, Tivon asked and the woman in purple sighed.

“It didn't occur to me until after the crash as I tried to understand what had just happened.”, she admitted. “There were signs, bursts of anger. He said odd things about believing the world must be destroyed.”

“Was that all?”, Tivon pressed. From them he could learn what some signs might be, what he had to look out for...and most importantly, how to try and negate Mordremoth's influence.

“Sometimes he talked to himself as if trying to keep certain urges at bay. I felt at the time like he was in a battle of wills. Arguing with himself.” and _that_ , Tivon realized, sounded exactly like Scarlet.

“I'm now completely convinced that Scarlet's actions were not in her nature. She'd been corrupted by dragon ideas—her mind warped. Boss, I'm glad you haven't shown any such symptoms—yet.” She grinned up at him as if he was one of her experiments and she could not wait for everything to go wrong.

“And I don't intend to.”, Tivon said and then gave the Zephyrite a grateful nod. “Thank you, masters. Taimi, let's go.”

The trio departed quickly and Tivon watched them for as long as he could until they went out the gates and out of sight. The signs were clear, then. Mordremoth would come into someone's head and warp their minds until they could no longer resist. Wrap their minds around tasks and missions and press until one yielded.

“You look so serious. Zojja wears a similar face sometimes, when her experiments are especially dangerous. What are you going to do?”, Taimi quipped.

“Speak to Trahearne.”, Tivon said. “If we are to help the Pact we can't trudge into their way.” Tivon turned his head, searching for anything that remotely looked like a command center and found Eir standing in front of metallic stairs, other members of Destiny's Edge beside her. It was pure coincidence and their eyes met and she gave a wave and Garm mustered him curiously from the distance. “One moment.”, he said and marched over the sand toward where Eir stood in the shadow of the canyon, and she tilted her head with a smile.

There were also Logan and Zojja who gave him a curious glance.

“Hello.”, he greeted them. “I am Tivon.”

“Ah, yes. Taimi's acquaintance.”, Zojja nodded, putting two and two together. “I got an earful from Taimi after her run-in with Phlunt.”

Tivon did not know Zojja very well, only that she was Taimi's mentor and apparently more kind-hearted than most asura. She was also part of Destiny's Edge, and it did not surprise him that she had come to assist in the fight against Mordremoth. “Phlunt is an...interesting individual.”, he said carefully and she snorted.

“You're in a polite mood today. I'm more likely to say Phlunt is an interesting insect. But, I do appreciate your effort. You needn't worry. Everyone who matters knows the device is Taimi's invention.”

“That's as it should be.”, Tivon agreed. When this was over, he'd make sure Phlunt remembered that.

“It's good to see you.”, Eir smiled. “I debated whether I wanted to come or not, but I just couldn't pass up a chance to go at another dragon.”

“Why didn't you want to come?”, Tivon frowned at the norn woman, craning his neck to look at her. Her look was stern, her eyes kind. He could easily see her hunting prey in snow-covered mountains, crouching in knee-deep snow with Garm at her side. In her features and her bright eyes he could also see her resemblance to Braham.

“I keep trying to put hunting behind me.”, she sighed. “Caithe drew me out for the fight against Zhaitan, though, and here I am again. At least, I get to see Braham.” Her eyes wandered over to where the group stood and Tivon did too, noticing that his friends were deeply engrossed in conversation and did not even notice their glances. What struck him as odd was that Rox had split away slightly, talking to another Charr he did not recognize.

“He's a good-hearted, brave hunter.”, Tivon said and Eir smiled broadly.

“I know. I'm proud of him. At his age, his legend is already great. I can only imagine what he'll do as he matures.” He could see that she spoke truth plainly from her face. She truly was proud of Braham.

“I'm glad you're making amends with him.”, Tivon told her earnestly. He remembered Braham's thoughtful face from not even a day before, when they had spoken about his childhood. The expression on Braham's face had been contemplative, as if he was weighing things in his mind, and Tivon believed that Braham would and could forgive Eir, if given time.

“As am I.”, she nodded and her eyes drew back toward him. “You're an inspiration to him, you know?” Tivon was caught by surprise by that and she laughed at his expression. “I want to thank you for taking him under your wing. Your guidance has changed his life.”

“He's had my back on many occasions.”, Tivon replied and wondered what Braham had told Eir about him. “We're friends. There's no such thing as under my wing. We're equals.”

She nodded in understanding. “I am glad he has a friend like you. I can see that he is happy.”

Tivon hesitated briefly before he asked, “I know it is not for me to ask, but I wondered why you left Braham when he was little.” It obviously meant a lot to her now to have time to bond with her own son, and he could see the regret passing over her features.

"Borje and I had many talks about it before I left.”, she began and her eyes grew distant. Borje must be Braham's father, then.“You have to understand that the Sons of Svanir were spreading quickly at that time. Whole families were being corrupted. It was like being caught in an avalanche. One snowball became many, and before I knew it, too much time had passed. I left to fight Svanir in the beginning, but then there was Kralkatorrik, and then Zhaitan. I was needed at each one of them, and by that time, I'd been gone so long... Braham wouldn't even have recognized me. I had to focus on keeping him safe by doing what I could against the dragons.”

“You should tell him this.”, Tivon insisted and she looked contemplative and reluctant.

“I am not sure he'd understand, even if I did. I understand his anger and frustration, but I am not certain if he understands why I had to go.”

“I think he would.”, he murmured and she sunk into silence before she nodded.

“You might be right. Perhaps we will fight against Mordremoth together and I will get the chance to talk to him. Our time in the Shiverpeaks was awkward, silent, and short. He spoke of nothing but the mission and you.”

Tivon remembered searching for the totem in Frostgorge Sound. “He thought you were an avalanche.”, Tivon smiled at her reassuringly and she shifted and bit her lip. “I am sure you would get along if you both ceased to fear.”

“By wolfs teeth, you do sound like Raven.”, she chuckled. “I take it the raven has served you well?” She was changing the topic, he knew, and perhaps it was time to move on and not press any longer. He'd meddled more than enough in the affairs of Braham and his mother.

“More than I could have ever hoped. Vail and Kota are my closest companions and friends.” Vail was circling in the skies over their heads, a peck of white against blue, clear sky, whereas Kota had decided to stay behind with Frostbite, leaving small trails of dust as they chased each other through the compound.

She nodded in understanding and cast Garm a glance. The wolf was quiet, fur dark as night and a quiet assessing nature to his gaze that made Tivon wonder how people stood tall under the intense stare. “I sometimes wonder how others function without bonds such as this.”

Tivon knew what she meant. Others searched for bonds with people, but those were prone to discrepancies and short-term involvement. Finding life-long friendship was difficult among people. Pets and companions however stayed through thick and thin, through drought and flood. They would never leave unless left themselves.

“They search in hope of finding it.”, Tivon murmured softly.

“Very true.”, Eir smiled. “I am sure you have places to be, old friend. May Wolf guide your steps.”

“May the Raven watch over you.”, Tivon said and slowly backed away.

When he turned Braham and the others were still engrossed in conversation and his eyes trailed toward Rox who was still talking to the charr who gave Tivon a curious glance when he approached. ”Looks like your friend's coming to rescue you.”, the charr grumbled with a mean scowl and Rox rolled her eyes.

“Don't you have somewhere to be? Move off.” Her voice was sharp and annoyed, and the charr waved with a clawed hand before turning and moving away. “Hey.”, Rox greeted and looked awfully stiff. Her eyes wandered toward where Braham, Kas, Jory and Taimi stood. “What are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be...”, she trailed off. Tivon raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to finish, but she shook her head.

“Who was that you were talking to?”, Tivon asked and glanced after the charr curiously.

“Who? Oh, him? Just an old friend, someone I knew from my mining days.”, she shrugged nonchalantly, but Tivon knew her better than that.

“Did he know your old warband?”, Tivon guessed.

“Some of them. We all worked the same mine.” She was trying to sound as if it barely concerned her.

“I've never said it, Rox, but I'm really sorry you had to go through that.”, Tivon told her earnestly and rested a hand atop her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The borders in her features fell away and she averted her eyes and head, staring down at the dusty ground.

“I'm still going through it.”, she admitted. “You and Braham help keep my mind off it. It's hard to talk about. It's hard to see people I knew from that time.”

“Would it be okay if I met him? A friend of yours is a friend of mine.”, Tivon tilted his head, trying to judge her reaction.

“He's not really anyone. I said "friend," but I meant "acquaintance." Not worth your time.” She said it like a final statement, and Tivon accepted that.

“Okay. I won't pry.”, Tivon said. “ If he gives you any trouble, you let me know, OK?”

“I will.”, she nodded with a hint of a smile. “You don't have to worry. I can handle myself.”

“I know.”, Tivon smiled back. “Changing the subject: You heard any word about Rytlock?”

“No. I planned to head out to the Black Citadel to see if they've heard anything yet, or if they're planning on doing anything. We're here for now. Have you spoken to Trahearne yet?”

“I haven't.”, Tivon admitted. It sounded almost as if Rox had been expected to be left behind. “I was catching up with Eir, but I think that's enough catching up for one day. Let's go to the command center, shall we?” Tivon admitted that he handled that part especially well and Rox grinned.

“Right behind you, Tiv.”

So the two of them joined up with the others and Braham cast Rox a glance. “Who was that ugly charr?”, the norn asked and Rox waved the question away with a movement of her arm.

“No one important. So what's got you bickering?”

“Taimi wants to upgrade Scruffy by learning from some charr engineer.”, Kas explained.

“Not just _some_ engineer!”, Taimi protested with a huff as if Kas had something inane. “His command of metal-magical integration is awe-inspiring. We studied his progressive layering techniques in class.”

“You sound excited.”, Tivon noticed and Taimi nodded.

“I am thinking of upgrading Scruffy.”, She said, her grin lowly fading when she continued to explain and she shuffled nervously with her inhibited legs. “I've been planning it for a while, and it'll take me even longer to do. But, the Inquest incident moved my schedule up a bit.”

She never wanted to be in that situation again. Tivon understood; even if he and Braham had come in time, their rather adventurous path lead them through all kinds of dangers, and it was best if Taimi was prepared. “Upgrade how?”, Tivon pressed and gave the golem a glance and noticed that Taimi looked glad he did not oppose her.

“Upgrade Scruffy to a whole new level of kuh-bam, as Braham would say. I'll spare you the complex details so as not to embarrass you, but it's going to be great.”

“So, are we going to talk to Trahearne or discuss potential new metal plating for Scruffy?”, Jory asked with a mirthful smile. Tivon beckoned them along with a chuckle. The group ascended the stairs to the command center and Tivon saw many airship captains surrounding a large, wooden table at which Trahearne stood.

The firstborn already had his eyes lifted, having heard their steps on the metallic steps, and straightened when he caught sight of Tivon. “Ah, Valiant.” he greeted. “I saw you arrive. It is good to see you.”

Tivon was surprised by how even and kind Trahearne's voice sounded. It was as if the firstborn was completely collected, but Tivon had seen the worry in the firstborns features. It was as if from a switch, now that he thought it, and wondered if perhaps that was necessary.

To be able to switch off emotion and feelings in order to function, in order to lead the Pact against an Elder Dragon. He had seen it in Sgileas too, if not quite as strong, and not quite as frequent. Perhaps that switch was only for the two of them and nobody else.

Somehow Tivon suddenly was sure that whatever connection Trahearne and Sgileas had, it was more real than anything he'd ever had. Quickly he pushed that thought away.

“We, my friends and I, would like to assist in the assault against Mordremoth.”

“I am grateful for each pair of hands to help us against this.”, Trahearne nodded. “But in this moment we are planning the assault and organising the troops and canvassing the enemies movement throughout the Silverwastes and beyond. As of right now, I am afraid there is not much that you can do.”

“I am sorry, but I disagree.”, Tivon said boldly and stepped forward, but if Trahearne was surprised, he did not show it. Instead the firstborn tilted his head curiously, waiting for Tivon to finish. “I do not know if Sgileas has told you, but before the Pale Tree fainted, she showed me a vision.”

Trahearne nodded once again, features turning into a contemplative frown. “He's told me. I see.”

Tivon did not even have to explain that they could try and learn all they could about Mordremoth and his vision; there was no way for him to be idle in this state, not with the battle drawing nearer.

“I suggest the Durmand Priory libraries. If anyone knows how to decipher what you have soon, you will find your answers there.”

Behind Tivon Braham groaned. “Book. Scrolls.  _ Artifacts _ .” 

Jory chuckled. “You'd be unwelcome there, big boy.”, she said teasingly. “You'll topple over all the bookshelves. Archivists can turn into ferocious snakes when agitated.”

“Then Braham can stay with Taimi while she upgrades Scruffy, and Rox can head to the Black Citadel.”, Tivon suggested. “I'll head to the library with Kas and Jory.”

Taimi beamed. “Awesome!”

“Sounds like a plan.”, Kas agreed, and Jory nodded in agreement. Rox looked surprised but gave him a curt nod as well. Had she thought he'd forget her? He gave her a smile which she returned.

“I'll keep in touch.”, she promised. “Once I find out more, I'll let you know.”

“Alright.”, Tivon nodded, but before he could make a move, Trahearne stopped him.

“A word, if you would.”, the firstborn said and turned toward all the others that had stood and waited rather awkwardly, but they understood, saluted and moved away.

Trahearne pulled him aside and his friends waited at the stairs. “The vision-”, Tivon began, because that was the only thing he knew that might interest the firstborn, but Trahearne shook his head.

“I was wondering about your state of mind. We know that Mordremoth can reach into thoughts. Ceara was Soundless, in a sense, and I heard that Aerin, the saboteur from the Zehpyrites, was even more so. I was wondering where that left you.”

How many times would he have to admit that he was a liability, how often would he have to admit that he was a security risk that nobody should be willing to take, and yet he was certain that he could fight the Elder Dragon in his mind.

It was  _ his  _ mind, after all. He knew himself better than some Elder Dragon. 

“It leaves me vulnerable.”, Tivon agreed. “I have heard it's call and it's grown stronger since I stepped into Omadd's machine, but I am confident I can keep a clear head. I have something that neither Scarlet nor Aerin had.”

Trahearne nodded, understanding once again without explanation, yellow eyes trailing over Tivon's shoulder toward his friends. “You are fortunate to have them trust in you like this.”, the firstborn said. “You have displayed great strength of will before; I have no doubt you'll succeed.”

Tivon almost melted at the words and the kind smile Trahearne gave him, but he stood his ground and only gave a nod before bringing out, “Thank you. I won't disappoint them – or the Pale Tree.”

“I heard that you partially managed to heal Mordremoth's corruption.”, Trahearne continued and he looked intrigued.

“It's something new. It unlocked through desperation and... _clarity_ , as contradicting as that sounds.”

“Not at all.”, Trahearne said softly. “Desperation brings out our priorities, a singular thing that matters most. It's the one thing that coaxes ones true colors without fault or masking of character. Everything else ceases to matter and you fall into the flow, working to achieve that one, single thing.”

Tivon knew that for Trahearne, that  _ single thing  _ was no  _ thing _ at all. That it wasn't a  _ thing  _ for Sgileas. For them both, it was each other. It was the other's life. 

He glanced over his back toward where his friends stood. Words were not necessary. His priority was to protect them, and Trahearne saw that clear as day without raising a question. It was almost as if Trahearne could read him head to toe and Tivon wondered if perhaps it was the firstborn's experience with life. Trahearne was the oldest of their race, after all.

When Tivon turned back around he continued. “I channelled Astral energy from the stars. It brought me into a different state of...power? I am not sure how to explain.”

“A celestial avatar.”, Trahearne helped and Tivon knew it was right the second the firstborn said the words. They _felt_ right, like pulling over a most favourite scarf and nuzzling into its fabric and breathe in its scent. “I have heard of it before.”

“You have?”, Tivon asked in surprise. “What can you tell me?”

Trahearne chuckled at his eager expression. “It takes training to tap into astral energy. It's not a constant flow. It is rather a storage you acquire and can release.”

“And how do I do that?”

“As you have until now.”, Trahearne smiled. “Meditation; keep your mind steeled and your thoughts on the path. Astral energy flows best without influences interfering; if your thoughts are dishevelled and in disarray, you will disrupt it's natural flux. Calling upon the state will become easier over time.”

“So...I can willingly bring it forth?”

“Of course. It is similar to my shroud, only that the power draws from within myself, whereas you draw yours from the stars. It is time-gated, and sustaining it for too long will cause damage to yourself.”

“That's why I was so exhausted.”, Tivon realized.

“You used it against the Shadow of the dragon.”, Trahearne frowned and Tivon quickly corrected,

“I enveloped Sgileas. The flames...spread.”

“That is most extraordinary. From what I have learned, little as it may be, the Celestial Avatar is capable of harming nothing and nobody. It would appear that Mordremoth and it's corruption pose the sole exception.”

“That is good for us.”, Tivon reasoned when Trahearne continued to look grave.

“And most dangerous for you.” Trahearne looked earnest and stern, causing Tivon to frown. The firstborn explained, “You are already vulnerable to its call; posing a threat to its champion and its inherent corruption with powers such as this will leave an impression. It is a potential danger.”

“You think it will attempt to corrupt me more vehemently because of this?” That thought was....terrifying and sickening.

“Possibly. But perhaps I have spent too much time devising strategies; attempting to delve into the mind of an enemy and analyse its movements. I can not say what Mordremoth thinks, or plans next.. All I ask is: be wary, Tivon.”

Tivon nodded with a tight throat. “Thank you for your counsel.”

“If you have questions, you need only ask.”, Trahearne offered and gestured his farewell with an inclination of his head. Tivon did the same and retreated, joining up with his friends. Rox had already left for the Black Citadel and Kas gave him a broad smile.

“So?”, she asked.

So many things to tell them, all in one single day. He cast Braham a glance and remembered their conversation. The urge to postpone this new revelation came and dwindled and he began, if a bit hesitantly, “Trahearne knew what exactly happened to me at the summit.”, he explained. “He says that over time, Astral energy can be collected and released, causing the Celestial Avatar to appear. It is a state of great healing ability, and apparently Mordremoth's champion is vulnerable to it, as well as parts of Mordremoth's corruption.”

“That's amazing.”, Kas breathed. “So we have a weapon against him?”

“Trahearne alluded that with Mordremoth already reaching into my mind, _this_ would only increase its efforts at corruption.”

“Am I glad when we finally bash that dragon's head in.”, Braham grumbled. “Until then we'll keep our heads clear.”

“If anything, that should make us even more determined.”, Kas chirped in. “We'll just fight back harder. If you can cleanse its corruption we have an advantage.”

Tivon nodded. “I agree, and who knows? Perhaps we will learn even more of Mordrmeoth's weaknesses at the Durmand Priory.”

“You guys go; I'll keep an eye on the squirt.”, Braham said and looked at Taimi mirthfully when she gasped.

“Hey!”

“Will you get along?”, Tivon asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah, sure.”, Braham answered. “We'll be in touch.”

“I'll leave Kota and Vail here. They enjoy Garm's company, and I doubt they will be appreciated in a library.”

Braham chuckled at that. “Alright. I'll keep an eye on them, too. No worries.”

Tivon nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”

“Then let's get going before we grow roots of our own.”; Kas said with a smile, and then she seemed to notice what she had said and shuddered. “Oh, roots. Vines. Bad. I shouldn't have said that.”

“No need to blush, darling. The sun has already risen to your cheeks.”, Jory teased.

“Oh!”, Kas made with a laugh. “Miss Delaqua, if you do not-”

“Ahem.”, Tivon made from already relatively far away.

“Oh, sorry.”, Kas blushed. “We will keep it to a minimum.”

“Appreciated.”, Tivon said in a teasing tone, and Kas knew that he didn't mind at all.

 


	35. Caithe's Reconnaissance Squad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes deep breath* ANNOUNCEMENT: Despite my best efforts to optimize my time and _not_ spend all my days for the rest of my life on my stories, I can not help but wonder in between shuffling index cards and reading boring passages in books about muscles origins and fastening points where I want my story to go and lead...  
>  and my head has this huge complex where it can't help but be a magnificent inspiration and motivation by showing me what I could do and where I could take this story.  
> So. Right. The Announcement. I will be taking this story as far as I can - meaning even the most recent LS 4.  
> Yup.  
> *tugs at hair* Brain what are you doing to me.
> 
> For this Chapter we have the most snarky companion the world of GW2 has to offer with my own touch of sarcasm and glorious Sgileas ready to save a few unsuspecting Pact members. (And Canach in the process, but who is counting?)  
> Now go! And take this mine with you, you'll need it!  
> (Hahahaa. Oh god, I'm terrible. Don't mind me. Making my exit.)

Sgileas was intrigued by the fact that Mordrem seemed to be little else than the minions he summoned. They seemed to have no will of their own, controlled by a master that had its claws in every crevice of the earth, and came from the very earth they were summoned from. In that regard, they truly were like the undead he could call forth, which also meant they were nothing but fodder and to be discarded. Could they share information over a connected consciousness? Was Mordremoth in the Mordrem heads, or were they borne from a single purpose, to die after completing it?

“Do not disturb that body. It's rigged to explode.”, a voice suddenly came and Sgileas lifted his eyes from where he crouched on the ground, inspecting a Mordrem corpse he had found. Canach jumped from the cliff, boots digging deep into the sand before the warrior erected himself. “Unless you wish to be vaporized into a fine mist, I advise you to step away.”

Sgileas lifted from his position and glanced over the secondborn briefly. Canach stepped closer, dusting off his sylvari armor from grains of sand before he built himself in front of him, not caring for a healthy physical distance. “You are welcome.”, Canach smirked, and when Sgileas raised his eyebrow, Canach added exasperatedly and with a roll of his eyes, “Forgive me - You are welcome, _Commander_.”

“Spare me the sarcasm.”, Sgileas snapped, finally having enough of Canach's insolence. “Show me which way Caithe was headed.” Canach being here meant he had split off from Caithe – for whatever reason. To guard the passage? To scout _behind_ her? If that Mordrem body was rigged, Canach must have placed the mine.

“As you wish.”, Canach said, eyes hardening. “Along the way, I advise rigging these mines to any Mordrem corpses we come across.”

Sgileas did not deign to answer and ignored the mine Canach gestured for him to take, brushing past the Secondborn without another word. He made it a habit to  _not_ listen to anything the secondborn had to say. Canach's history was not quite as nefarious as perhaps Faolain's was, yet they made one thing very clear: Canach fought for what he thought was right, whatever that may be, and now he worked for a female human noble whose intentions were unclear. Sgileas did not like  _not knowing_ .

For as long as Anises intentions remained unclear, so were Canach's. And so long as Sgileas did not know them, Canach was neither friend nor enemy. It was a grey area. And grey area's were _dangerous_.

The canyons reached high over their heads, spreading out even further than Sgileas had seen from atop an airship once. The Silverwastes were an area deserving only of the last half of it's name –  _wastes._

There were rocks and sand everywhere, causing the foundations of buildings, camps and forts to crumble long before completion. Treading through this area was chancy – and with Mordrem covering the long planes and waiting to catch the unwary it was even more so. Only the most bold and adventurous would delve deeper into the wastes, and Sgileas could not blame most Scouts to return before long, not having dared to.

It was a good thing they would assault Mordremoth from the sky instead; if they attempted to assault by foot, Sgileas was sure it might just as well take  _years_ to push through. And they did not even  _know_ how far and wide the Maguuma jungle beyond reached.

“Hold here.”, Canach hushed and raised a hand as a signal for Sgileas to stop. Startled the Commander did as Canach, casting the secondborn a glance. “If we're sly, we can bypass them. Around or through?”

“As if you need to ask.”, Sgileas grumbled out, and was surprised once more when Canach blocked his way by an arm held out right in front of him. He was tempted to rip it off. It would regrow for sure and it'd be a lesson the secondborn would not forget, but Canach held no weapon and Sgileas sensed no danger either, just tremendous annoyance. Perhaps drastic measures should not be made simply by impulse.

“Let me place down some mines to dissuade our enemies.”, Canach offered and gestured toward Mordrem corpses splayed out behind them on the ground, tangled bodies and limps made from branches, twigs and old fern.

“We do not have time for something so trivial.”, Sgileas shot back, skin prickling.

“We are outnumbered.”, Canach dead-panned, as if Sgileas were a child. To a secondborn he must seem like one, but who of them had fought against Zhaitan? Ah, yes. _No thanks to Canach,_ Sgileas thought. “Stealth and ambush are the preferred tactics here. The explosives will kill multiple Mordrem instantly: just plant the explosives and wait for our single-minded targets to return.”

“I will make one thing abundantly clear, and only the once.”, Sgileas said, and both sylvari stood in front of one another, barely a few feet apart. Both glared, and purple met violet. Sgileas had met few who could hold his gaze for more than a few seconds, and he suddenly found that Canach held it with ease.“I am nobody who needs to be told first-grade answers and tactics. Reserve your trifle for someone like yourself.”

“Your pride must be fickle indeed to be threatened by astute strategy and innocuous mine-placing.”, Canach shot back equally, venom lacing into the words as if dripping from a steel blade.

“I know of your past, _secondborn_.”, Sgileas seethed. “You have given me no reason to trust you.”

Canach smirked. “I do wish you would get over the past. The fact that I did not watch you blow yourself into smithereens should be indication enough that I am not interested in your demise. Although,” Canach added, “I would have watched happily – and not lost a minute of sleep.”

“Then why didn't you?”, Sgileas asked in a demeaning tone. “Are you growing soft, after all?”

“Please.”, Canach rolled his eyes. “ _I_ planted that device. What do you think would happen if I blew up the _Commander of the Pact_?” The title came with a mocking smile.

“You'd notice that you played with powers beyond your comprehension.”, Sgileas promised darkly. “And just for the record – and so that you make no such foolish mistake again – these Mordrem are not single-minded.”

Canach frowned at that and for once, closed his mouth and considered it. For a moment Sgileas imagined the secondborn would protest – simply for the _sake of protesting_ – but Canach's features turned contemplative. “You may be right.”, he amended, and the sudden change – from heated and dark to thoughtful - made Sgileas pause too.

“I _am_.”, Sgileas said arrogantly, but his voice was less sharp, this time. There was something deeply respectable about those that could adjust their view without being colored by emotion. He had seen it only rarely – and mostly in Trahearne.

At that, Canach rolled his eyes. “Of course.”, he said. “Through, I take it?”

Sgileas pulled the scythe from his holster and didn't cast Canach a second glance as he charged into the Mordrem. The scythe spun in front of him in a circle, the sliver of steel barely visible in the dark shroud. There was a shredding noise, the crunching and breaking of wood and branches, and when he lifted his shroud the three Mordrem wolves lay before his feet.

Around the next bend lay a Whispers Initiate and Canach crouched beside the human male. There was blood dripping into the sand, smearing over the grains and oozing into the earth. “Dead.”, Canach grumbled. “The wounds are fresh, the body is still warm. Caithe must be close.”

“Did you read that in the position of the sun, or because we can hear their _fighting_ from here?”, Sgileas dead-panned, already brushing past.

Canach looked after him and sighed. “What devil possessed them to make _you_ Commander?”, the secondborn asked no one in particular as he stood. “You have the emotional capacity of a stone. And the stone is faring better.”

“There is correlation between focus and supremacy, not emotional capacity. It is not my fault you have neither. But, _please_ ,” Sgileas said and turned to look over his shoulder with a smirk, “Do keep me informed about my lacking emotional qualities. I revel in their absence.”

“Arrogance is a whimsical shield.”, Canach shrugged. “The ground greets us all at the end of the fall.”

“I've fallen once.”, Sgileas reminded the seocndborn; he didn't bother explaining when, because the tale was as famous as his reputation. His fall into Arah. “It was not quite so definite as it would be for someone lesser. You, for example.”

“I am sure the universe keeps you alive for your powers, not for your personality.”, Canach dead-panned and Sgileas made an annoyed noise.

“I am not here to _please anyone_. I am here to _get things done_ where others such as yourself fail. Remind me again why I had to come here, would you?”

“Pray tell, is your memory hampered?”, Canach teased.

“My memory works fine. It was your humiliation I sought.”, Sgileas replied in dead-honesty.

“Ah, yes. You'll find I am no easy target for your maltreatment. Humiliation is a lesson well-learned, especially behind the bars of a prison cell.”

“Save your stories of blooming amendment for someone else. Whatever wisdom you claim to have had in prison, it will be nothing but brittle words from a traitor.”

“Oh, are you siding with the likes of Noll now?”, Canach raised an eyebrow. “ _The Commander of the Pact_ would never have stepped from the aloof clouds to help a few minor refugees. No, larger battles in macroscales needed to be fought, dragon's needed to be slain, a famous reputation needed to be gained. Look down on me all you like, _Commander_ , “, Canach sneered, “but the things I have done were borne from the very same motivation that you share.”

_The people. To save and protect the people of Tyria, and the world itself._

“No.”, Sgileas said. “You seek _justice._ I seek _survival_.”

“And is that so antithetic?”, Canach asked. “Survival of the fittest isn't _just_. The strong beating the weak isn't _just_. _Survival_ alone _isn't just_.”

Sgileas came to a halt and regarded Canach. For a moment he fought with the frustration crawling up his spine that Canach was both more infuriating and annoying than most other people he had met (So far even more annoying than Carys had been in the early months), but he begrudgingly had to agree that Canach had a point.

Canach studied him in return, shoulders dawn up slightly as if he was expecting Sgileas to strike at him, but even if Sgileas was no stranger to the more vicious side of emotions and played with thoughts of unspooling his frustration, he was much more disciplined and controlled than to let his emotions rage and command his actions.

“You are right.”, Sgileas finally amended, and the surprise in Canach's features showed only in the glint of his eyes – the rest of his face remained hardened. “But if you bicker any longer I am afraid Caithe won't be needing help ever again.”

Canach's lips curled at the edges in amusement. “Your regard for her well-being is touching, Commander.”

“Don't insult me.”, Sgileas snapped and moved toward the fighting noises once again, the sounds of coppice crunching and cracking echoing off the canyon walls. Around the corner Sgileas could finally see those of Caithe's squad that had remained. Caithe herself was engrossed in the fight, focussed on the many enemies that surrounded her. Her fingers were curled around her two daggers, her movements quick and nimble, and she only glanced over to where Sgileas approached after she'd made a turn, her right dagger slashing through a Mordrem wolf's side.

Sgileas jumped right into the mess – a full fledged group of Mordrem that did not suspect or notice his coming. With a single cut of his scythe that came diagonally from the sky toward the ground a Mordrem husk stilled and fell apart into two cleanly cut parts that splintered upon crashing to the ground. With a turn he lifted his scythe above his head, circling it over his head to gain a more powerful strike and cut in an arc in front of him, cutting through the wolves that turned upon the sound of crunching coppice. The scythe cut through like knife through melting wax, leaving the wolves with large, open clefts.

With a jerk of his arm Sgileas stopped the momentum of the scythe and lifted his hand into the air, and without even a word the minions rose to obey his command and will, surmounting the remaining amount of Mordrem in an avalanche of bones held together by strands and strings of decaying flesh.

Caithe watched with a level face when the minions almost washed away the last of the Mordrem in a wave of crawling piles of flesh, and then turned her face toward Sgileas who approached her with his usual nonchalant demeanor and arrogant air.

“Ah, Commander.”, she greeted blandly, but the smile did not reach her eyes. “I see you have my little brother Canach in tow.” She twitched when an explosion rippled through the canyons and Sgileas did not even cast a glance toward the wave of his minions where a necrotic cloud, dark and venomous, poured into the air from his own spell he'd enveloped over one of his shamblings. The cloud dispersed into the air into fine particles and Canach arrived beside him, waving a hand in front of his face with a disgusted face.

“I was told you might need extra help out here.”, Sgileas put in, regarding the dead Pact members at their feet. He was sure that Caithe would have managed to escape had the Mordrem managed to overwhelm the rest of the party – and even that would not have been entirely necessary. She'd have won, that much Sgileas was certain of, but the cost would have been higher.

“Nothing I couldn't handle, though I appreciate the sentiment.”, Caithe shrugged. Did everyone feel like being sarcastic today? Sgileas thought he imagined it, but there was a slight headache growing in the back of his head.

“Has your squad found anything useful?”, Sgileas asked.

“Not yet, though my instincts tell me we're closet to finding the source of these Mordrem incursions.”

Sgileas held back his snort. Her instincts had not been of much help against Zhaitan, not when she had frozen up as she had, or when she had tried 'consoling' Trahearne into believing moving on was the best course – and Sgileas  _hated_ her for that. The fact that she had tried acting according to her experience and her best conscience, as Trahearne had put it, were hardly an argument. She had tried to tear them apart, and that...

It was unforgivable.

“Judging from their increasing numbers, I'd say we must be getting close to something important.”, Canach agreed. “If so, I imagine they will be increasingly belligerent.”

“Feel free to hide when the action starts, Canach”, Caithe teased in let the daggers glide through her fingers, displaying playful dexterity. Somewhere along the lines of her face, Sgileas could even read the subtle hints of a threat.

Canach smiled back, unaffected. “Are you worried that I'll show you up, Caithe?”

Sgileas moved away from the two, deciding to let them bicker. The canyon loomed high at the sides, sheltering them from the sweltering sun, but the air was humid and hot still. The sand crunched under his soles as he moved up the slope and he heard Caithe behind him, “I suppose there isn't time for pleasantries. Squad, follow the Commander.”

The steps behind him were even, the soldiers quiet, until the point where the slope turned into an advance and vantage point, from which Sgileas could see a large vine wall barricading the way into a cave. Through the vines and thorns glittered purple and something moved in the shadows. He squinted his eyes, and he thought to see a large Mordrem, shaped like a large flower with spread petals and teeth in its center.

“There. A base of operations for the local Mordrem.”, Caithe breathed, her body tensing slightly as if she expected to be struck from the vantage point.

“Do you see that glow?”, Canach asked.

“It is hard to miss.”, Sgileas said flatly, but instead of the exasperated glare he expected, Canach had the audacity so look mirthful and _smile_.

“Your eyesight is working fine. That's _marvellous_ news.”

“Do you lie to Mother with that tone?”, Sgileas shot back.

“Not all of us can be obedient puppies, _Commander._ ”

“Oh, that will embitter and foil all of Anise's plans for you, I'm sure.”

“Commander.”, Caithe interjected, and Sgileas' had to admit that Canach and his stupid remarks were too much of a distraction; somehow it became necessary to answer Canach in the very tone the secondborn played, simply because Canach needed to be put in his place – which was _not_ his equal. Not in a fight, not in social standing, and most certainly not in wit. It was a demonstration of superiority, and Sgileas found himself wondering why he needed to _display_ that at all. It was obvious already. It was somewhat infuriating. “What do you think they are up to, all the way out here?”, Caithe asked.

“If this is a base operation for the local Mordrem, then I assume it is either part of the hive mind Mordremoth instils in its minions, or it transmits Mordremoth's orders. It is possible that Mordremoth's reach is limited, or to control quite so many minions borders on a capacity even an Elder Dragon cannot provide. A delegation, if you will.”

Caithe nodded thoughtfully. “Possibly.”, she admitted. “Then we should-”

Her advice was interrupted by a sudden loud bang that rattled through the ground and resounded from the surrounding canyons. Sgileas shot Canach a look. “Canach.”, he said in a dark, warning tone, and the secondborn shrugged.

“Whatever is coming is crippled in numbers now, and we are warned. I am sure even _you_ find no fault in preparation, _Commander_?”

“That,” Sgileas said and nodded toward the trail of smoke that reached higher into the sky now, “will attract many more Mordrem.” Another mine went off in the distance and Sgileas didn't bother to correct Canach any longer. “Set up a flare and signal the Pact.”, he ordered a soldier and the engineer got to work, kneeling down toward the ground with an apparatus in hand. It took barely a few seconds to set the device up before the engineer inserted a flare, lighted it and shot it up into the sky.

“And _that_ ,” Canach mentioned, eyes trailing after the flare as it rose into the air and exploded into a burst of colors, “is to be a most subtle reminder that there are indeed Pact members here for the Mordrem to prey upon, yes?”

“Canach.”, Sgileas growled, patience wearing incredibly thin.

“Apologies. I forgot how the Pact is instructed to never refute what their _Commander_ says. Or was it a rule applying to all? Ah, it keeps slipping my mind.”

_Pale Mother_ , Sgileas thought and tried not to indulge in the most enticing image of Canach being strangled by his hands. “A bit more professional expertise.”, Sgileas demanded with impatience.

Canach _smiled_.  “We are boxed up here on the cliff. Let's take the fight to the bottom of the slope.”

“No mines?”, Sgileas asked, this time actually admitting that they would be useful and Canach pulled out a pouch _filled_ with the silver and blinking devices. 

“No time like now.”, Canach smirked and Sgileas beckoned the secondborn to follow him and was surprised to find that Canach did. They reached the bottom of the slope and Sgileas stood in the passage between the two canyons, drawing his scythe from his shoulders.

“If we collapse this passage -”

“- we gain more time.”, Canach finished for him and knelt down on the ground, setting up the devices near the base of the canyons. A blast there would made the foundation fracture for sure, but it was large, reaching high over their heads, The weight of stone would prevent it from actually collapsing from a single mine. They would need more, which meant Canach needed more time.

“Finish here.”, Sgileas ordered and stepped into the passage, the two canyons reaching high to his sides, casting him in cool shadow. He heard the Mordrem approaching, the snapping and growling of wolf jaws, the trembling of the sand and stones beneath his feet and the resounding, thundering steps of Mordrem Husks. It took barely a few more seconds of waiting and the first wolves came rushing around the corner, lapping up eagerly and jolting toward him with bared teeth.

The movements of his scythe were fast enough that the eye could barely follow, and his blade cut through them with ease. There was enough space for him to turn yet and he cast a glance behind himself. The Pact members and Caithe waited on the slope, ready to intercept anything that would get past him.

More wolves appeared, and even the more slower Mordrem Thrashers that left fields of stinking and bubbling gunk on the floor that stuck to his boots and impaired his movement slightly. Thrashers were not only quite hideous plant-like creatures with teeth at the center of their flower-shaped head, no. They were vicious.

Thrashers had the most annoying strategy: To turn and twist, lifting up a dress of sharp leaves like some blade-dancers did, spinning in such a fast manner that striking at them was at the risk of being injured. Beneath them they would draw a lane of gunk that was both slimy and slippery, making the ground more difficult to tread.

Sgileas hated them most of all. In the small passage that allowed him little to no movement he had no choice but to either face them or faze through with the help of his shroud – and he was determined to let nothing through. So he traded a few scratches across his torso easily for cutting through the Thrashers that approached him. A sharp leaf-blade cut along his pectoral, tearing through his robe, but his scythe managed to cut the creature in two before it could come even closer.

The enemies piled up at his feet, the gunk mixing with the coppice and branches. It was getting difficult to navigate and he ducked away when a husk aimed with a large fist close to his head. The strike missed and crashed into the side of the canyon, leaving a cracking circle in its wake.

“Now, Commander!”, Canach roared at last, and Sgileas almost wanted to yell back _What in Ventari's name took you so long?!_ , but instead he cut through the arm of the Husk as it made an upper-cut and yelled,

“Bring it down!”

He expected protest – he really, really did, but none came from Canach. He heard it from Caithe, though. She said “But-”, and whatever her reservations were, they were drowned in the sudden booming and crashing sound as the mines exploded at once. The ground shook, the canyons beside him began to crack and fracture, the noise so loud it nearly exploded his ears.

With a last turn Sgileas dashed forward, cut with his scythe in front of him and used the momentum to turn, his feet scrapping over the vibrating stone, the bursting of stone reverberating around him. The stone shifted, parts from the top began to trickle down into the passage atop of him, and without being fazed, Sgileas charged through the passage as everything came crashing down around him. Stone cascaded to the ground, smashing into him,  _through him_ , and everything darkened considerably when the rocks crackled down into the passage and dust rose into the air. Even though the passage was blocked and Sgileas could not see, he continued charging forward and through until finally, he saw sunlight again. He came jumping through the rocks as a mist of dark, particles and shadows entwining as if from a demon shade. He startled the Pact members when he formed back mid-jump and landed on the sandy and rocky ground, lifting up a minor cloud of dust which was insignificant in comparison to the rockslide behind him. 

The click of his holster was all too familiar and he dusted off his shoulder and saw Caithe and Canach approach, both masking their features. Actually, both only masked their surprise, whereas Canach had no trouble showing how very disappointed he was.

“Heroic actions? What next? Noble intentions?”, the secondborn asked and Sgileas shrugged his shoulders.

“Don't pretend you didn't _like_ following that particular order.”, Sgileas shot back.

“The prospect of burying the legendary Commander under a rockslide? I think I have broken a record for pressing the detonation button. And the button in my eager obedience.”

“Predictable.”

“Charming.”

“ _Commander_ ,” Caithe put in, her eyes glancing between the two with a frown, and both Canach and Sgileas turned to look at her. “We should be near the cliff when the chopper arrives.”

“ _If_ it arrives.”, Canach corrected, and Sgileas was the first to ascend the slope.

“It will.”, Sgileas said, both calmly and with determination. If he knew one thing then that the Pact was reliable. If Trahearne had heard of their flare or even seen it (which was, considering the distance, highly unlikely), he would send a chopper immediately.

The Mordrem that were cut off growled from behind the passage, but they would not be able to get through any time soon. Even if they did – Sgileas was ready, and so were Caithe, her squad and Canach.

A fresh breeze brushed over them from atop the cliff and Sgileas stared out over the wide wastes and once more down into the cave, pondering about the glow from inside. He had his speculations, and the deeper he delved into the potential of Mordremoth's mind control the more intriguing he found it.

It was a power far more superior than simply _raising_ minions and giving them a command. It enabled the Elder Dragon to _control_ them. Sgileas could order a minion with a snap of his finger to take a blow for him, could usher it to attack an enemy, or to sacrifice itself with a curse of his attached. There was no experience with a weapon, there was no finesse. The minions bit and slapped with broken limbs, scratches with nail and bone alike. 

Mordrem on the other hand? They used their tools more thoughtfully. Skilfully. Almost as if having learned them, or as if controlled in a more delicate and omnipresent fashion.

Was such an extension possible for his minions? He would ask Trahearne upon his return.

Sgileas head whirled around when he heard the sudden crunch of a boot behind him, like a leap, and saw Canach with his blade drawn and attacking him, no, not  _him_ , the arc of the blade was not right, and Sgileas turned his head to see what the warrior was aiming for.

A small vine that had burrowed through the ground without a sound, with barely any motion and movement. Unlike its other  _kin_ , it was not thorned or sharp. It's surface was smooth and it had bent languidly and tentatively toward his ankle, where it's stretched form as it had effortlessly reached for him was cut it in two by Canach's blade. 

The vine fell to the floor with a soft slap into the sand, the other half still burrowed into the ground withered and disappeared beneath the earth.

A second of quiet passed and Canach raised an eyebrow. “I thought you did not trust me.”

Sgileas had not moved, not even an inch. If Canach had wanted he could have changed the trajectory of his sword in the last second, could have  _struck_ him, but however hard Sgileas tried, he could never imagine that happening. 

“Don't flatter yourself.”, Sgileas shot back.

“No 'Thank you'?”, Canach continued to tease.

Sgileas looked down dismissively to the small vine that lay unmoving, and with it cut it slowly withered and dried, turning an uglier shade of brown and crusted. “It was no threat.”, Sgileas continued. Surely it could have reached him, but his shroud would have enveloped him and either cut the vine itself or made him invulnerable to its grasp.

Canach must have had the same train of thought. Or a similar one, at least. “Has anyone ever told you your shroud looks like an entourage of Nightmare couriers sneezed in chorus?”

Sgileas blinked at the secondborn. “Excuse me?”

“And it buzzes like a swarm of locusts. It should be a good thing it smells sweet, were it not the sweet smell of decay and death.”

“Do not worry.”, Sgileas snapped sharply. “I'd rather you held your breath anyhow. Preferably forever.”

“That escalated quickly. Do you fantasize about death often? Does it come with your profession, or is it a personal thing you enjoy?”

“The finality of it seems mighty appealing right now.”

“Yes, you've said.”, Canach sighed theatrically. “And we both know empty threats when we hear and make them.”

“Why would I make empty threats?”, Sgileas said, eyes glinting. “Unlike me, you might be more useful dead than alive.”

“A dominatrix. Interesting.”

How did that damned secondborn manage to take him off-guard? It was like trying to catch a snake. Yet, despite the fact that it obviously infuriated him, at least superficially, he enjoyed the challenge of his wit. It was...most perplexing.

Before he could answer Caithe pointed toward the sky. “The chopper!”

The chopper came closer and closer until finally, it hovered over the cliff. They boarded without incident and Sgileas moved toward the railing, staring at the slowly distancing cave with a thoughtful expression. 

“These Mordrem went to a lot of effort to keep us from reporting back.”, Caithe murmured grimly when she stepped beside him.

“You and the Commander have experience with dragons. Is this predictable behavior?”, Canach asked curiously.

“Elder Dragons are far from "predictable," though their minions show a sort of situational awareness.”, Caithe answered.

A situational awareness. Was it possible that they commanded their own actions to a certain extent? That they were independent until Mordremoth ordered them to do a specific task? Why would an Elder Dragon risk relinquishing all control instead of ceasing it?

_A dominatrix. Interesting._

Sgileas glared at Canach and the secondborn met his gaze, looking slightly startled. “Is it my face that agitates you?”, the secondborn asked. “Perfection _is_ hard to look at, isn't it?”

Sgileas rolled his eyes. “Vanity, insolence _and_ arrogance _._ ”

“You are keeping a record? A most bland occupation for spare time such as this.”

“You must know all about how to spend _spare time_.”, Sgileas shot back.

“Ah, yes. It involves a _hard rock_ and a _steady hand._ ” Sgileas opened his mouth when suddenly his brain realized there was a double-meaning, and despite his usual collected mind, he found he had nothing to answer. Canach _smirked_ knowingly. “I meant juggling, Commander. Did your thoughts stray?”

“You need both hands to juggle.”, Sgileas brought out lamely.

“An expert on the topic, are we?”

Sgileas had never juggled in his life. “Not at all. But I can see you indulging in something quite so plain easily. Did your revelation to make amendments come upon making face-first contact with said _stone_?”

“Are you asking me if I hit my head?”, Canach chuckled.

“Not if, but how _often_. Asininity has to be a continuous effort on your behalf.”

“It takes no effort to be plain and _boring_ , Commander. I am sure we agree.”

Sgileas stared at Camp Resolve in the distance, wind brushing through the leaves atop his head. After a moment of silence he deigned to answer. “On that we do.”

The chopper landed, the twirling of the propellers atop their heads louder now that the sound reverberated from the canyons at the side and slowly fading as the engines shut down. Sgileas walked through the cloud of dust and dirt whirled up by the spinning of the metallic blades, Caithe right beside him. Together they marched toward the Command Center and when Sgileas ascended the stairs he halted and stared below, eyes gazing over the Camp, the shadows thrown by the canyon, over the few buildings and tents -

and noticed that Canach was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.  
> Am I the only one feeling the vibes? :D


	36. Hidden Arcana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I would forget to upload this, did you? I hope not! :3

“You went back to Fort Salma?”, Tivon cut in, having listened into Kas' and Jory's conversation while his mind had drifted to the Durmand Priory and the library they were heading towards. The lands had turned into the snowy, desolate place that Tivon had come to relish in some fashion – his bark and body were hardened against the chill and even barefooted he could last hours if not days in this cold climate.

Kas was draped in a warm, fur-lined coat of leather, but it had been painted a soft beige. Her golden-blonde hair was hidden beneath a hood, a red shawl draped over her neck up toward her mouth as protection against the wind. This was also the first time Tivon saw her wearing thick boots with a firm, plated sole and thick rims to ensure warmth. Despite it all, the mesmer shivered still. She looked a bit guilty when she replied, “Ela Makkay wrote to Jory asking for her help. Explorer Campbell went to Fort Salma and asked Jory to help her navigate.”

“And...you saw _Belinda?_ ”, Tivon repeated, staring at the large imprints that Kas and Jory left behind in the snow. If someone were to follow them, they could do so easily. The snow was coming in soft flocks, not the usual volley of cold ice crystals and fractals that Tivon had experienced in Frostgorge Sound. It was almost...soft.

“It's...”, Kas hesitated and looked at Jory for assistance, and Jory sighed. The Necromancer was draped in a similar cloak, but hers was pitch black, peacock feathers adorning her shoulders and where the cloak was fastened beneath her chin. Her arms were swinging softly at her side, fingers covered by a pair of dark leather gloves.

“When Belinda died, my world turned black.”, Jory admitted, her voice turning lower and harder to hear against the wind. “Now...I don't know what to feel anymore. Belinda...fused her soul with the sword.”

“How?”, Tivon asked in surprise, his gaze drifting to the greatsword affixed to her back with a belt that came to cross over her chest. The sheath was dark and smooth, possibly furnished wood from an old, dark willow. It certainly would make sense, in a most sensitive way, that a tree that is said to offer shelter and protection were beholden to a sword carrying Jory's sisters soul.

“I don't know.”, Jory admitted. “I'll have to do some research. Maybe this is a special blade. I just can't...believe she did that.”

“She loves you.”, Kas soothed and she rested her gloved hand atop Jory's shoulder, smothering the peacock feathers there with a soft, stroking motion.

“Jory, if this is too much...”, Tivon began carefully, but Jory shook her head, just as he had expected she would.

“No time to rest. We've got another meeting scheduled with Magister Makkay. Delaying would be a mistake.”

“Alright.”, Tivon nodded, accepting that this was how she wanted it. She was stubborn that way, and it only added that she was suspicious of Tivon's vulnerability toward Mordremoth. She was not quite as trusting toward him as before, but Tivon knew that Jory had Kas, and that the mesmer would be at Jory's side to ease her grief where Tivon could no longer reach. “Where is Ela Makkay?”

“Actually, we are meeting Odgen Stonehealer.”, Kas corrected. “He is...”, she paused and looked somewhat flustered, the color that was painted against her cheeks turning a shade deeper. The Durman Priory was just ahead, the stone steps a small comfort in comparison to the uneven and sinking snow they had treaded.

“You don't know who Odgen Sonehealer is?”, Tivon asked kindly as they ascended and reached the roofed platform, the Durman Priory headquarters just ahead. It was a building of grey stone, standing tall against the mountainside. The air turned warmer with each step they took toward the entrance and torches flickered on the pillars and walls in a soft wind, spraying them with light. Their shadows drew long and thin and along the way, many scholars turned their heads from their conversations to look at them in wonder.

“Kas, he's one of the most magical beings I've ever met.”, Jory explained softly and lifted her hands to draw back her hood, a cascade of snow falling onto the pale, smooth stone floor. “He's a dwarf, the last of his race on the surface of Tyria. Grenth alone knows how old he is, hundreds of years, at least. Centuries ago, many dwarfs turned themselves to stone to save Tyria from Primordus's champion. Most went underground to fight Destroyers. Ogden remains so their sacrifices would never be forgotten.”

“Oh.”, Kas made and did the same with her hood, the snow melting behind them on the slope, their steps long dried enough to not leave wet tracks in their wake. “That could not have been easy.”

Jory nodded in a agreement and took the lead. The slope lead into a large, cylinder shaped room that reached far into the sky. What was most intriguing about it however was not simply it's size; it was the golden pillar of light in the middle around which tablets and parchments fluttered in soft, soothing circles. Tivon stopped and stared, wondering for a moment if perhaps it was connected to the vision, but discarded the thought. Although it felt plenty magical and warm in the golden light, there was no sense of... _recognition_.

“Tiv?”, Jory asked and Tivon lowered his gaze and followed the Necromancer to a pair of steps that reached below the platform into winded and small stone corridors shaped in circles. To the sides rooms opened through heavy wooden doors, offering view into what looked like studying and class-rooms. From one even a voice pervaded through the door, but they dared not disturb them and moved quietly. As they rounded the corner there stood a woman that Tivon recognized from the time before Lion's Arch had been attacked by Scarlet.

“Hello again, Magister”, Jory greeted. “This is Tivon.” She gestured toward him, and Ela Makkay's eyes fell on him. She had dark skin and black hair that was neatly put into an elaborate knot at the back of her head, a piece of jewellery adorning the front of her scalp and her blue eyes were stern. Her robe was a dark blue, the uniform of the Durman priory, two soft leather pads resting atop her shoulders, making her rather slim form look slightly more taller and broader.

“Welcome, Tivon. I am familiar with your accomplishments.”, she greeted, and Tivon wondered what kind of accomplishments she meant.

“The pleasure is all mine.”, Tivon inclined his head.

“Magister Makkay is a world historian and reporter. Her focus these days is on Mordremoth.”, Jory explained.

“The Durmand Priory knows that when world events of this magnitude occur, it pays to chronicle them.”, Ela explained and gestured for them to follow through the hallway. “Magister Stonehealer is going to help you gather information on the Elder Dragons. He rarely agrees to such things. I will warn you, he's quite old and has little patience. He's the last of his kind.”

“We'll show him the utmost respect, of course.”, Kas put it.

“I'll take you to the Special Collections entrance. Archivist Ernswort will guide you from there.”, Ela explained as they rounded into a large room that looked like a kitchen, a large hearth bathing the entrance in dancing firelight.

“For the millionth time, there are no culinary applications for bloodstone dust. None.”, a loud, brusque voice said angrily. “No good can come from feeding it to living beings.”

“Pfft, what do you know? I'll take the dust to the streets and start my own food cart. I'll be rich!”, another said and stormed past them as they entered. Both men were large norn, and the one who had stayed behind had his arms folded in front of his chest with a scowl on his face.

“Ahem. Are we interrupting something important, Chef?”, Ela asked with her perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in question.

The Chef unfolded his arms upon seeing her, sputtering shaking his head quickly. “No, Madam Magister. We're just having a small...professional disagreement. Are these the visitors you mentioned?”

“Yes. They have dispensation from Magister Stonehealer to visit the Special Collections.”

“I've already adjusted the wards to allow them entrance, and the archivist has been warned that they're coming.”, the chef said and Ela nodded and turned toward the three.

“I'll show you how it's done.”, Ela said and gestured for them to follow. Tivon was not sure where she was leading them, but her steps took them closer and closer straight to the blazing, lively fire.

“Be careful down there.”, the Chef cautioned.

“Follow me, please.”, Ela moved forward and stepped into the flame with certainty, and Tivon expected her to cry out in pain any second now, but she waded further in and disappeared. He hesitated for a brief moment before he followed her. The flames were cool and soothing, lapping up his legs and arms, and as he stepped forward a cold breeze washed over him and he found himself in a large, stone hall with two arching steps that lead upward. Ela waited patiently and behind him, Kas and Jory stepped through the flaming portal.

“This is the Durmand Priory's Special Collections. Security here is tight, for reasons you'll soon understand.”, Ela said with a mysterious smile. “You are free to browse. All we ask is that you handle artifacts with care and remove nothing from this area. I have to return to my work. Archivist Ernswort is here somewhere. She can guide you to Magister Stonehealer.” With that she waved and brushed past them through the portal, and it flickered and was gone.

“Wow.”, Kas breathed when she took the steps, her shoes clanking loudly through the library. “This is amazing.”

“Hush, darling.”, Jory made with a smile. “We'll have to be real quiet.”

When Tivon reached the top of the stairs he noticed what had them both in awe. The library was built from a large, round, room with many adjacent chambers. The bookshelves stood all aligned, and Tivon let his gaze trail over the sides and craned his neck.

There, on the ceiling was a similar image like the one he had seen in Omadd's machine. It was a picture of three larger circles picturing the world Tyria with three smaller circles siding to the left, the other three to the right. Each small circle had a symbol inside, a symbol for the name of the force involved, or rather, the _Elder Dragon_ it belonged to. In the center was an illustration of the planet itself, as if the dragons were moons spinning and orbiting around it.“Kas.”, he whispered and she turned toward him and followed his gaze. “There. That's what I saw in the machine. That's the All.”

“You saw that?”, Jory asked when she too let her dark eyes trail toward the ceiling and Tivon nodded, his gaze captured by the design.

“The smaller circles were orbiting around the center, and each had a different color.”

“It's...kind of beautiful.”, Kas admitted and tilted her head curiously. “Strange how we're supposed to fit in there.”

“We should find Enswort.”, Jory cut in, breaking the both of them from their reverie. She was the first to make her way down toward the library and Tivon followed her, right after Kas. He wondered if perhaps with this he had reminded Jory once more what Tivon had seen, what threat he posed, what _vulnerability_ he brought. 

In the library were many scholars and students, engrossed deeply in their studies and books of interest. It smelled of dust and old paper, the walls decorated with light sources that seemed both magical and harmless. Torches would most likely pose a risk none of the Durmand Priory were willing to take. Some books were presented on tables, looking so worn, old and parched that the slightest touch might make them crumble to dust. The library was vast and silent, shelves lifting high up and squeezing beneath the ceiling. Tivon wondered how many lives it would take to read them all.

“Excuse me, Archivist Enswort.”, Jory said in a hushed voice, and the asura looked up from a piece of parchment and form behind scrolls and strange items that lay spread over his table. “We are here to see Magister Ogden Stonehealer.”

“Ah, yes.”, the Archivist said. “There is a stair in the middle of the library that should lead you straight down.”

“Thank you.”, Jory nodded and briskly made her way back to where the bookshelves were positioned in an angular form, almost like a circle, but with spaces to move in between. It was a labyrinth of wooden shelves and students standing in the small passageways, giving and casting them curious glances as they passed by. Most were directed at Kas, whose shoes made a constant clanking noise on the smooth stone surface of the libraries ground.

The stairs lead down in a spiralling shape into partial darkness that lifted only after a few turns, alleviated by torch-light. When finally they reached the bottom of the stairs they found themselves in a large storage room where crates, artifacts and items were packed upon one another, but there was not a single book in sight. Perhaps that was why down here they used torches instead of magical fire, Tivon mused.

Among the dim light stood a small figure. “What took you so long?”, a deep voice demanded to know, and Tivon noticed the chalk-like skin, the marmored features and the grey eyes that did not glint.

“We're sorry for the inconvenience.”, Kas quickly put in.

Ogden Stonehealer waved with his hand and Tivon feared for a moment that the stone-dwarf would fall apart, but he moved without even a crack appearing on him. “Well, don't waste my time. Tell me what you seek.”

“My name is-”, Tivon began, but Odgen shook his head wildly.

“Speak up. These old ears are worse than my old eyes, and they're worse than my old...oh, nevermind. Go on.”

Tivon and Kas exchanged a glance before he continued. “My name is Tivon. I need information about how to deal with Mordremoth.”

“Actually, I think you need information about the meaning of your vision from the Pale Tree.”, the dwarf replied nonchalantly and Tivon froze. He had not told anyone but Sgileas and his friends about it.

“What? How did you—“, he began, but the dwarf interrupted him.

“There are those who have taken interest. I had some warning that you might be calling. Your challenges do not go unnoticed.”

“Who?”, Tivon frowned.

“All in good time.”, the dwarf smiled. “But know that they have Tyria's best interests at heart. Now, this is what you're looking for. This artifact. Go on, examine it closely.”

It stood upon a crate, glass-spheres glittering in the firelight as Tivon approached. Kas and Jory cast him a glance, telling him that they were none the wiser. “What is it?”, he asked.

“Don't ask. Act. Examine it, and you shall see.”, Ogden replied with a hint of exasperation.

When Tivon stepped closer he noticed that it was a large hourglass. It was made from smoothly shaped curved glass and precious metals that strung tightly around it's middle and when he lifted his hand, he felt the magic palpable in the air.

“You can touch it.”, Ogden encouraged and Tivon slowly let his hand fall atop the glass. There was a moment where nothing happened and then he was pulled inward, his hand glued to the glass. He attempted to tear his hand free, even at the cost of pulling the artifact with him, but it did not budge and his hand remained glued to the surface. The magic sparkled to life under his fingertips, the sand inside the hourglass began to churn and lift into a sandstorm.

His body jerked forward, his hand melted into the glass and through and he was pulled inside, and behind him Kas and Jory let out a surprised noise and he felt their hands on his other arm, pulling – but whatever it was it pulled them all in and Tivon closed his eyes at the sensation. It felt like charging forward, falling... and then, abruptly, he came to a halt stumbling, and he caught his balance upon a crystal floor.

He blinked in wonder and awe, staring at the flat, shining surface of crystal beneath his feet. Between his toes he could see everything reflected as if he had stepped upon a mirror and he saw himself staring back at him. For a moment he stared before he lifted his gaze and found that the flat crystal beneath his feet was not all. He was _surrounded_ by crystal, each and every single wall reflecting him, or parts of him as he turned. It felt and looked like he was surrounded, and somehow it made him feel terribly uneasy and self-conscious.

Some crystals were smooth, others jagged, but all of them reflected with the very same clarity. There was only the one crystal where his full body was reflected completely and he found himself staring.

 _Is that really me?,_ he wondered and stepped closer, noticed that as he walked his feet barely made any sound, the soles coming first, then the heel, he noticed the taunt pull of his calves and the slightly tense shoulders. His eyes were stern, dark, _analysing_.

He remembered seeing himself in glistening waters in glades, washing away the grains and dirt across his face after a strenuous day; he remembered lively and curious eyes. When he was right in front of his mirror image he shifted uncomfortably and reached out with his hand and touched the cool, flat surface. Despite his expression being reflected – a mixture of apprehension and suspicion – nothing happened. The mirror remained cold, there was no hum of magic surrounding it. The only sound came from clattering of crystals around him, distant and soft like chimes clinging in the wind.

That was him. It was really, really him. He'd never cared to look, never had let his gaze linger in a reflection before. Waters had been his only indication and he'd known his face – until he'd re-awakened beneath the Pale Tree's bough and everything had changed.

The reflection moved. It retracted its hand and Tivon startled, his hand still flat against the mirror. His eyes grew wide, but the reflection didn't show it. His reflection took a step back, tilted its head and regarded him with a small smile that did not reach its eyes.

Tivon stepped back and opened his mouth, but was not even sure what it was that he wanted to say. The reflection gestured with a dark, lithe finger towards its chest and Tivon's eyes followed. The reflections tapped against its chest, once, twice, and then Tivon watched as from where the reflection had tapped it's armor, the leaves, the vines, the skin, bark, _everything_ fouled and withered away, decaying and shrivelling. A darkness spread over the reflections pectoral, rising up to its neck and chin and it lifted its head with a smile, but Tivon didn't smile.

He shook his head and took another step back, placed a hand atop his chest to ensure whatever darkness overtook his reflection, it did not effect him, and he watched horrified as his reflections was swallowed in a sheet of blackness. Its eyes closed for a moment, it shuddered and then it adjusted its head and opened its eyes.

They glowed fiery like a blazing fire. The iris was surrounded by a yellow that turned into ember and scarlet, and Tivon could do nothing but frown.

“ _I am you.”_ , the reflection spoke, and by the Pale Tree, it was _his voice_ , but it echoed along the crystals with darkness and nonchalance, power reverberating and dripping from every word. Behind the reflection appeared vines the color of coals, slowly curling around the reflections shoulders. _“Mordremoth is your master. Your only master.”_

Tivon grit his teeth and drew his weapon with frustration boiling inside him. “No.”, Tivon hissed, and the reflection _smirked._

“ _I am you.”_ , it repeated. _“I am the Keeper, I am Mordremoth's champion. You can have all the power you desire.”_

Tivon lifted his staff and for the first time, the reflections' smile faltered and it raised a hand, the vines slithering across it's shoulders and chest like snakes.

“ _None can escape him.”_ , the reflection said. _“You will bow.”_

Tivon didn't even answer. He swung his staff with a frustrated cry against the crystal and it fractured where the wood hit the column. The cracks rose to the edges like lightning strikes, but whatever darkness had possessed it, nothing but fractures of himself stared back at him now.

Dishevelled. Confused. _Horrified_.

“Tivon?!”, a voice yelled shrilly and Tivon's head whirled around. That was Kas, he was sure of it. “Tiv, where are you?”

“I am over here!”, he called, his voice fading through the space, and whatever awe and calm he had at first felt was now substituted with trepidation. “I'm...I'm OK.”, he lied. He could see moving figures far across on the other side of a floating crystal, the space in between too large for him to jump. Kas noticed him too and stared at him though the crystals, her form strangely disfigured and distorted.

Jory groaned on the other side and slowly lifted herself to her feet, as much as Tivon could tell from the dark blurs on the other side. “What...just happened?”, she asked, and her voice echoed through the bright void.

“I...”, Kas began, before a hiccup made its way past her throat. “I don't know. But my legs feel like Zhaitaffy.” The two glanced around and Kas gasped, “Is this—“

“It must be.”, Jory murmured.

"Glint's lair!”, Kas exclaimed. “It's even more beautiful than I imagined.”

“And eerie.”, Jory noticed, her head turning to look over her shoulder. “Doesn't look like we'll be leaving the same way we came in.”

“I never thought I'd see this.”, Kas breathed, her voice full of wonder and awe.

“It doesn't look like we can reach you from here.”, Jory murmured when she stepepd toward the crystal and lifted her hand against it. Tivon could see the imprint of her glove glimmering through. “This place...it's something else entirely. Maybe our paths will intersect beyond here.”

“Right.”, Tivon said to test his voice and took a deep breath. “You look for a path up ahead. I'll do the same on my side.”

“Be safe. Glint may no longer live here, but that doesn't make her lair any less dangerous.”, Jory cautioned, and Tivon wondered if what he had encountered was one of the many things that had entered Glint's lair in her absence.

“You too.”, Tivon brought out and turned, his eyes searching for a way through, a passage, perhaps even a crevice. There was only one way leading further than the oblivion and void beneath the island of crystal. A bridge of floating crystals that hung in the air unmoving and he approached them with care, tapping gently with his staff against them. They were stable and did not budge under pressure, so he took a leap of faith and stepped onto the first one. It held steady under his feet, and slowly he began to jump across, one crystal at a time.

Thankfully as he reached the other side he could still hear Kas and Jory, their voice amplified. He did not trust himself to be alone, not completely. Not after what he had seen in that reflection. He was not sure what it meant – except that Mordremoth was in his head, lurking and waiting. “My father used to talk about Glint and her prophecies.”, Kas began. “He said she was grand and noble, as noble as any Krytan. She loved humans. Except when they tried to steal her eggs. She defended her children like any good mother.”

“What an empty place.”, Jory murmured, and Tivon could see their distorted figure through a thick wall of crystal, just on the other side, but still cut off. “My mother told me stories passed down by her mother. She said it was once guarded by fearsome dragons. The lair itself would tear and gnaw at you, but heroes braved its dangers to have an audience with Glint.”

“Can you imagine what it must have been like?”, Kas breathed in awe.

Jory cast her a glance, but if she smiled, Tivon could not see. “We studied the Flameseeker Prophecies in school.”, Jory told her.

“Me too. I remember the stories about the fall of Ascalon, Prince Rurik, the Chosen...”, Kas trailed off.

“I used to pretend I was a Chosen when I was little. Me and my sisters put on plays for our parents.”, Jory said, and Tivon could hear the sorrow in her words. He wished he could not hear them, to give them some sort of privacy. They did not seem to be aware he could hear.

“I can just imagine it.”, Kas said softly, and for a moment, they were quiet, the only sound the clanking of her heels. Tivon made his way through the crystals and the vast areas of intertwining paths, each more beautiful than the last. The air here was clear, a soft hum vibrating on his skin. It was neither warm nor cool, just warm enough not to feel hot, cool enough not to freeze.

Why had Ogden brought them here? What was the reflection supposed to show him? Was that simply Mordremoth's influence creeping into the edge of his consciousness? And what were they supposed to discover in Glint's lair that would help him understand the vision? Who had told the dwarf about his vision? If this journey truly helped him figure out the vision it surely was no ill to have someone close to him that informed the dwarf, but he still felt uncomfortable not knowing.

“Glint was ancient—thousands of years old. Why wasn't she like the Elder Dragons?”, Kas wondered, breaking the silence and Tivon ducked beneath a low hanging crystal, noticed that some of them were sharp enough to impale.

“She was freed from Kralkatorrik's control by the Forgotten a long, long time ago. And then, because of her gift for reading minds, she connected with humans. She learned to think like us. Elder Dragons don't. They're too...different.”, Jory explained softly. “I know how Glint died.”

"Destiny's Edge went to kill her, right? So she wouldn't wake Kralkatorrik?”, Kas asked.

“That's my understanding. But she communicated with them and they changed their minds.”, Jory said.

“Then what?”, Kas asked eagerly.

“They tried to take down Kralkatorrik, but they ultimately failed. Glint perished. Logan Thakeray was supposed to be with them, but he left to protect the queen from Kralkatorrik's minions.” It was not clear whether Jory was biased in her tone; if so, Tivon couldn't read it.

“I don't know what we'd have done if something had happened to her.”, Kas whispered, her voice carried only ever so softly.

“Some blame Logan for why Glint died instead of Kralkatorrik that day.”, Jory said thoughtfully.

“He was just doing his duty.”, Kas defended, and Jory was quiet for a moment when there was a distant, loud thrumming that made the crystals around them clatter.

“Shhh.”, Jory made and came to a halt. “What was that? Did you hear that?”

Tivon squinted his eyes to look though the many crystals still obstructing his sight ahead. Through the glitter and light he could barely make out a larger room like a dome, and something moving. When Tivon turned his head Kas and Jory were gone and he saw their forms disappearing through the wall of crystal, becoming nothing but blurs and distorted figures of colors.

He hurried along the side, tried to catch a glimpse of them, but they had either taken another passage or moved ahead, the clank of Kas' heels becoming more and more distant.

“Kas, stop moving. Listen.”, Jory cautioned from far away and the clanking stopped. There was only the hum in the air, and the shifting in distance. There was a rumble that shivered through the crystals, making them clank and clatter, and then a roar.

“What was that?”, Kas breathed.

“Watch out!”, Jory cried, and Tivon was running, jumping over a broken piece of crystal, leaping forward into the large room and came to a halt just before what looked like a giant guardian made from crystals.

Kas was stumbling, her feet finding balance on the flat, smooth surface only after a few steps and Jory ducked beneath the massive creatures swing, drawing her sword from her back. The creature swung another arm, circling around and Kas ducked beneath, the crystal wall beside her exploding in a thousand glittering fragments. Jory cried out, but it was almost drowned in the roar the creature made, even though it possessed no mouth nor eyes.

It was made of rectangle and triangular shapes of crystals, one atop the other, holding together by magic alone. With each of its movements the crystal cracked beneath its feet, and the ground trembled in its wake. It was large, looming high into the air far above their heads, glaring down at them from its angular head.

Tivon moved and summoned the vines, but it was as if he was met with resistance, as if he could not tap into his magic. It felt...blocked, almost, and he jumped to the side just in time when the guardian crashed its massive fist into the floor where Tivon had been not a moment before. His body slithered to a halt as he knelt, the ground too smooth to gain proper footing and he lifted his arms protectively as crystals scattered through the air like sharp knives.

Jory had charged beneath the guardians feet and began to cut into the crystal skin with her longsword, leaving large cracks that fractured underneath the weight. The guardian cried out loudly, a sound so alien and foreign Tivon was not sure if it was rage or agony, and the guardian succumbed to its knees when its feet fractured under Jory's assault.

It rolled like thunder through the lair when the guardian fell, and Tivon managed to move out of the guardians way, sliding to the side as the massive body crushed down. He stood and lifted his staff, trying to crack the crystal with force of strength alone and saw Jory's blade blinking from the corner of his eyes when the both of them lifted their weapons above the guardians head. A breath, a short pause, and when both weapons descended low, the crystal cracked and fractured, splitting open into pieces of stone and the guardian's body fell apart, magic lifting into the air in a warm gust.

Jory didn't wait. She jumped over the pieces, hurrying toward Kas's side. The mesmer sat on the ground, legs angled beside her, looking dizzy and confused. When Jory knelt down beside her she smiled languidly. “Jory.”, Kas brought out.

“You're okay!”, Jory said in delight and pulled Kas up to stand once again.

“What just happened?”, Kas asked, her heels clanking on the ground when she stood. It was evident that she ha trouble to keep upright without slipping. “What was that?”

“Not sure. If I had to guess, I'd say it was part of the lair itself rising up to greet us.”, Jory shrugged.

“Not much of a greeting if you ask me.”, Kas smiled and then looked over Jory's shoulder to where Tivon stood. “It's good to see you, Tiv.”

“Mhmm.”, Jory made in agreement. “We weren't sure we'd see you again, to be honest.”

Tivon was about to reply when the air swirled above of the remains of the guardian, colors appearing and weaving together to form an image, a picture, and then, a moving form. Tivon recognized the Master of Peace, holding out two hands to receive something.

“You must promise to protect it with your life. Will you?”, a voice asked, soft and ancient, and Tivon trembled. He remembered all of a sudden, wings, crystal wings, his _Dream..._

His eyes widened and he stepped closer, eyes transfixed by the projection in front of him. His entire focus shifted, Kas and Jory completely dropping from his mind. This was...this was _it_. Whatever _it_ was, but it was his _calling_. He could feel it, he could feel his body vibrating in the wake of his purpose, _his destiny,_ the fibres under his bark singing to the image in a strikingly sweet and soft tune.

The figure of the Master of Peace nodded and slowly, an oval object drifted into the Masters' hands and he grasped it carefully, as if afraid of breaking it with one wrong move. The Master looked at it with love and awe and then, the vision dispersed, disappearing into thin air.

“What...was...that?”, Jory asked, but Tivon barely heard. His head was churning. The crystal wings from his vision must have been Glint, and the oval object that Master of Peace had taken, the oval object floating inside the pillars of light from his vision...it was the same.

“It couldn't be...”, Kas gasped.

“We need to speak with Ogden immediately. Let's find a way out of here.”, Jory said and her head whirled around in search of a portal. The room had no other way in except those they had entered, and in the far away corner was a spiral of crystals that rose from the ground to form a ring, and in between wove swirls of blue in a vortex of magic.

They didn't hesitate to go through and everything darkened, the laughter of Ogden slowly reaching Tivon's ears. “The looks on your faces!”, the dwarf said, holding his belly, and Tivon's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

“You could have warned us.”, Jory accused and Ogden shook his head.

“Nope. No, no. That would have sapped the fun right out of it.”, he grinned. “So tell me. What do you know now that you did not know before?”

“It was a portal to Glint's lair.”, Tivon answered and stepped forward, the perturbation at his Dream finally revealing itself fully nearly chocking him on the spot. He _needed_ to know where to find the egg, he needed to have it in his grasp.

Ogden frowned at him. “So it was. The Master of Peace and I set it up after Glint's death so I could guard it for the Brotherhood.”

“I saw the Master of Peace take an egg.”, Tivon urgently brought out.

“The last one intact.”, Odgen nodded. “It's been in stasis since her death. The Master of Peace is taking it where it will be safe and allowed to hatch.”

“Where has he taken it? You must tell me!”, Tivon stepped in front of Ogden, voice rising, and Jory and Kas threw him worried glances. Jory's eyes narrowing in suspicion, but Tivon did not care – not in that moment.

Ogden regarded him carefully. “Sadly, I do not know that. He disappeared beyond Dry Top, and I've had no word since. “You will find him, won't you? He is in great danger out there.”

“I saw the egg in the Pale Tree's vision.”, Tivon breathed, barely able to contain the thrum in his body that rose into his fingertips, a call to action that brought vitality to flush through him, energy he'd never felt before. “I was reaching for it, searching...”

“That is why you were chosen for this.”, Ogden told him earnestly, torchlight flickering over his stone-hardened skin. “Go now. Find him and make sure he arrives safely at his destination.”

“What's his destination?”

“Only he can tell you that. Go, but be smart.”, Ogden cautioned. “Do not rush into danger unprepared. You have many trials ahead of you.”

“Thank you.”, Tivon brought out.

Ogden nodded once again and glanced over his shoulder to where Tivon disappeared on the steps in a flurry, taking two steps at the same time. Jory and Kas excused themselves, saying the goodbye's in a rushed fashion and had trouble catching up, but Tivon barely noticed.

It was all suddenly so very clear; how had he not seen it before

His calling to the Maguuma Jungle was the _egg_. It was his duty to protect it from Mordremoth's grasp, to keep it away from the Elder Dragon.

“Tiv, wait up!”, Kas called and ignored the 'shh's' thrown her way as they made it through the library. Tivon halted only at the top of the stairs in the atrium and waited for them, thoughts churning, eyes downcast and eyebrows furrowed in thought and worry. “What is going on? Where are you going?”, Kas asked, trying to catch her breath when she reached him.

“This egg...it's Glint's egg.”, Tivon said. “I've seen it in the Pale Tree's vision. We have to go after the Master of Peace.”

“We came here looking for a weapon against Mordremoth.”, Jory cut in. “How is an egg going to help, especially when its in stasis?”

“I...I don't know.”, Tivon admitted and met her eyes. “But I know Mordremoth is after it. In the vision it attempted to grasp the egg and obscure it from me. Whatever it is, Mordremoth wants to ensure we do not get it.”

“Then that should be enough reason for us to look for the Master of Peace.”, Kas nodded in agreement. “But we have no way of knowing where he went.”

Tivon shook his head and his eyes gleamed with determination. “We know someone who does.”, he said and strode towards the portal. “And I am excellent at finding those who do not wish to be found.”

 


	37. Return to Camp Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize. I wrote like a bunch of stuff on the weekend and now week has hit me like a truck, but thankfully I have chapters already worked out for you! Enjoy while I bathe in study-papers and laugh hysterically because that's what people do. Yup.

“Oh, hey Tiv-”, Braham cut himself off when Tivon brushed past him in a storm toward the Command center, taking two steps at the same time on the steps. The norn blinked after him in confusion and Jory and Kas followed a few minutes after, looking exhausted and out of breath. “What's going on?”, Braham asked. “It looked like the Wolf was chasing Tiv up the stairs, there.”

“He's...”, Kas began, caught her breath and pulled a strand of hair behind her ear before she continued. “Well. We went to the Durmand priory and Ogden Stonehealer – a great ancient magister dwarf turned to stone – helped us understand parts of Tivon's vision. It's about Glint's last egg, apparently, and the Master of Peace took it, so we're going to look for him.”

Rox appeared behind Braham with a curious glance. “What's got him in a hurry?”, she asked, and Kas explained once again.

  
  


“Trahearne, I _must_ speak with you.”, Tivon said when he reached the top of the stairs, and both Trahearne and Sgileas looked up, startled. They as well as other Pact Commanders were hunched over a map on the table, various figures spread out across and over it, and the firstborn frowned.

“I am afraid it will have to wait, Tivon.”, Trahearne said softly, but sternly and erected himself. “This is a strategy meeting and-”

“It is urgent. Please.”, Tivon begged, and Sgileas, who stood with his arms folded in front of his chest and eyes squinting at him, placed a hand atop Trahearne's shoulder.

“I will deal with this.”, Sgileas murmured and stepped away, beckoning Tivon over to the side. The Commanders around the table gave him a curious look, but none of them said a word and resumed as if they had never been interrupted in the first place. It was only Caithe who followed Tivon with her eyes still. “What is it?”, Sgileas asked sharply when they were out of earshot. “It better be good.”

“Glint has an egg.”, Tivon brought out, words tumbling from his mouth. “The Master of Peace is carrying it and the Aspect Masters are following him. Mordremoth wants the egg; for some reason, it must be a threat. It may be our one weapon against the Elder Dragon.”

“The shape from your vision.”, Sgileas caught on, thank the Pale Tree for his wits. “And you intend to go after it instead of joining the assault.” It was no question, rather a statement.

“Yes.”, Tivon breathed. “It's my Wyld Hunt, this is what's drawn me to the Maguuma jungle ever since I awakened, this is-” He cut himself off when Sgileas lifted his hand to interrupt him.

“Alright.”, the necromancer said. One word, short and direct. Tivon paused, having expected that he needed to explain himself, but then again, Sgileas understood better than most. “Is there anything you need?”

“I...no.”, Tivon murmured. “You will be with the Pact Marshal in the assault?”

“Of course.”, Sgileas frowned. “The egg is your Wyld Hunt. Mine is spoken for.”

“When are you heading out?”

“Too soon for you to follow.”, Sgileas said, and Tivon felt guilty for only a moment. “But a battle always has more than one front. If you retrieve that egg, we might have an advantage. We can not say how long the assault will take, so you had best hurry.”

Tivon nodded, and then, slowly, he added. “There's..more.”, he began, and Sgileas straightened. “Mordremoth's corruption affects us. We are vulnerable to its call. Especially those that are no longer under the Pale Trees protection, and with her unconscious, we are even more at risk.”

“You took Scarlet's path.”, Sgileas noted coolly. “Where do you stand in all this?”

“I've heard it calling.”, Tivon admitted and remembered the reflection. “It is but a whisper I can suppress. My meditation keeps my head clear, and with my purpose spoken for, it'll never reach me.”

“Then be careful. I imagine it's call will only grow the further you wade in.”, Sgileas warned.

“You too.”, Tivon said and inclined his head. “May the Pale Tree protect you.”

“Us all.”, Sgileas replied blandly and Tivon brushed past him, slowly descending the stairs. He had a foreboding feeling that prickled under his bark that would not go away. He should be with the Pact; he'd come here to help them, and now he was going off after an egg instead. But he didn't feel guilty. Not at all. The egg...it was his calling. He _needed_ to see this through.

It was like a scratch at the back of his neck, a constant reminder thrumming in his head, and whenever his thoughts drifted the image of the egg would pop into his head, bringing everything to fade in comparison.

He turned around when he heard steps behind and noticed the firstborn Caithe, staring at him intently and he came to a halt. “Why are you looking at me like that?”, she asked and Tivon frowned.

“Are you...following me?

“No.”, she replied bluntly. “I am accompanying you. I plan to go with you and find the Aspect Masters. Three humans who are used to flying around on ships are going to leave a trail a mile wide.”

Tivon agreed with that, and he had thought the same. “What if the ships leave without you?”, Tivon asked.

“Then I won't be going with them. Is that a problem?”

Tivon shrugged. “Not for me.”

She seemed to smile then, and followed him abreast, this time. It was more comfortable than to have the feeling of being followed, even though he reminded himself that she had eavesdropped on him and Sgileas.

His friends turned toward him and Caithe with curious glances. “..and we'll be on our way to find the Master of Peace.”, Jory finished before she looked up.

“Have any of you seen the Aspect Masters?”, Tivon asked, and Braham was the one to answer.

“Sorry. They haven't come back since they left the last time you were here.”

“Do you know which direction they went?”

“No. But I bet Taimi does. Ask her.”, Braham pointed toward the workshop behind him.

“Okay, let's split up.”, Tivon suggested. “We have better luck finding them that way. Rox, with me. Jory and Kas, you try to find out anything about their whereabouts.”

Braham frowned. “And what about me?”

“I need you here should they return. Stay with Taimi.”

“Feels like babysitting duty, if you ask me.”, Braham grumbled.

“A very independent and busy baby.”, Kas chuckled.

“I'm going to talk to her and then head out.” Tivon was just about to move when Braham spoke up.

“The three of you?”, Braham asked and that froze Tivon for a moment. Was it suspicion or worry? He couldn't tell. The Silverwastes were dangerous, not to be canvassed lightly, Tivon agreed with that, but he _had_ to go.

“I doubt anyone could hold his pace.”, Kas cut in and chuckled. “He practically ran back here to get started.”

That changed little of Braham's expression and Tivon tried to give an encouraging smile. “I'll be fine. If anything happens, I'll let you know.”

_Like you did with the reflection?_ , a guilty voice in his head asked.

Tivon pushed it away and turned toward the metallic shed. Taimi was with her newly acquired friend – acquaintance? Mentor? - in the workshop, working of various metal platings just near the forge. The place was filled wit hdevices, workbenches and other metallic instruments that Tivon could not even be bothered to identify.

Taimi and the Charr were working on something in front of the forge, the bright, orange light flickering and casting their shadows into lithe, large splatters on the ground. “Well, color me orange and call me Rusty, you're getting it.”, the charr chuckled and Taimi gasped theatrically, her eyes glancing up at the charr.

“You doubted me!” Before the charr could answer he noticed Tivon coming in with a sure stride and tilted his head, and Taimi followed his gaze and beamed up at Tivon. “Hi!”, she greeted cheerfully. “Want to meet Brun Ingotspitter? Brun, this is Tivon, one of the most intelligent non-asura I know.”

“My little friend says very nice things about you.”, Tivon said blandly.

“That's good to know.”, the charr laughed a rumbling laugh. “It's an honor to meet you, Tivon. I've heard the stories. It surprises me that someone as important as you takes the time for a cub like Taimi.”

“I could say the same to you. Thank you for helping her.”, Tivon replied.

“We've been learning all about heat ratios and metal density. What have you been up to?”, Taimi chirped and brushed off a pair of thick leather gloves that were evidently not made for her size.

“I just came to say good-bye. I have to go after the Aspect Masters.”

“Oh! After you left, they took a lot of supplies and headed southwest to look for the Master of Peace. They were packed like they weren't coming back any time soon. Why do you need them?”, the swarm of words came from her eagerly, and Tivon doubted he'd ever seen her happier. He hated to cut her off like this.

“I'm in a hurry. Can you have Braham explain it to you later?”

She nodded in understanding. “I definitely will. Soon as they launch the Pact ships, I'm going back to Rata Sum to use all the knowledge I'm soaking up from Brun. I can hardly wait.”

“You can tell me about it when I see you. Be careful while I'm gone.”

“You too.”, she grinned and Tivon gave the charr a nod as farewell before he excited the workshop. The sun here was baring down on him, almost glaring, and he blinked up against the flare, Caithe's footsteps almost quiet as a shadow beside him.

Jory approached him, cutting herself off from the others. Tivon gave Caithe a glance and the firstborn walked on ahead, understanding without words. “Tiv, I meant to talk to you.”, Jory said, her dark eyes hesitant.

“What about?”, Tivon asked, feeling tense.

“This...”, she pulled the sword from the scabbard on her back and showed it to him. It was a long, straight blade with just the slightest hint of a curve. “It was Belinda's. It gives me something to take my mind off Mordremoth. I'm not sleeping well, and I can't sit still for long. All I can think about is driving that sword into Mordremoth's heart.”

“You're not the only one who wants the dragon dead, but we have to be smart.”, Tivon assured her.

“Smart how?”, she asked sharply, her eyes alone cutting into him. “I'm improving with my sword, but it's taking time. It doesn't come naturally to me. I'm a necromancer.”

“Don't miss the forest for the trees.”, Tivon said soothingly. “There's a bigger picture. The egg.”

Jory's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “All I can see is death. I don't understand why you think it's so important to go after this egg. The Master of Peace is probably already dead.”

“The egg could be the key to saving Tyria. It's important. The Pale Tree—“, but Jory cut him off.

“Wouldn't have shown it to you if it weren't important.”, she finished for him and then raised her eyes to look at him. “I'm with you, Tivon. I am.” She said it as if she had doubted, as if he had doubted, and they both knew they did. Tivon felt her suspicion toward him and even though he _understood_ , he found it hard to accept. “Don't worry. Know that when we finally face Mordremoth, I'll be at your side.”

For the first time after he had heard about the egg, Tivon paused. He stared at her, contemplating her words, letting them echo through his mind. Jory would not lie about such things; she would be there if it meant Mordremoth's end.

But Tivon was not sure if his path lead that way. If...his destiny and the outcome Jory sought were the same. “You're our rock, Jory.”, Tivon murmured, choosing his words carefully. “You keep the others sane and safe.” _When I can not._

She smiled at that, but it was a sad smile. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.” She paused for a moment, her eyes drifting off toward the horizon. When she spoke again, Tivon froze at her words, “I'd die for you. You know that, right?”

“I...”, Tivon hesitated, and he felt her watching him, but he could not meet her dark eyes. Instead he let his gaze trail toward the gate where Caithe and Rox waited, somehow feeling guilty about his doubts and insecurities. “I understand your suspicion and concern, considering my...”, he trailed off.

“It doesn't change that I trust you. We're friends. Nothing changes that.”, she emphasized and when she lifted her hand to grasp his upper arm Tivon found the strength to meet her gaze.

“In Glint's lair...”, Tivon began slowly, but her hand never left his arm. It was steadying, soothing even. “I saw myself. A reflection of myself in Mordremoth's service.”

Recognition glazed in her eyes. “That was the shattering we heard.”, Jory concluded and Tivon nodded.

“I understand your distrust. We all fight for something, for... _someone_.” Tivon's eyes glanced over at Kas, and Jory turned to look over her shoulder, tensing slightly. “And you should know that if...if the worst comes to pass, I would rather _die_ than hurt any of you.”

“I know.”, Jory murmured. “We all do. We're here for you.” Her grip on his arm tightened and Tivon rested his hand atop her own, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you.”, he breathed, and Jory gave him one curt nod before he released her and she pulled back.

“Now go.”, Jory nodded toward the entrance. “If the Master of Peace is still alive, I know you will find him.”

Tivon nodded and he watched Jory walk over to Kas who looked like a proud mother, and Tivon turned away, finally grouping up with Caithe and Rox to march into the Silverwastes with a more light-hearted feeling than before.

 


	38. Tracking the Aspect Masters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla there and I hope you're enjoying your weekend! Since this chapter is so short (for me, at least) I'll upload the next one shortly after. I know I'm spoiling you a bit but I just wrote the chapter "Torn from the Sky" and wow, I think I need a hug.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

As he and Caithe had predicted, the Aspect Masters had left a trail large enough for even a blind man to follow. They had scattered belongings along the way that had weighed them down, had not bothered to hide their trails and left footprints in the clear light of day.

All the better for him; and less so for them.

The tracks lead toward a cave in which Rox had to light a torch in order to see anything, and even though the footprints clearly lead them here, it was somehow strange to think they would pass through this darkness. Why would they go here? What would the Master of Peace possibly want here? Not hide the egg, surely. This place was way too open.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

The cave stretched and bent, the ground covered in grains of sand that crunched only ever so softly as they moved. He felt the shift beneath them before he heard a single sound. “Vines!”, he called out in warning, mere seconds before they broke through the ground, attempting to tangle in around them. They jumped back, cautious of the vines' swipes, and Rox pushed the torch into the sand, lighting the tip of her arrow with flame.

Caithe meanwhile cut through the thorned vines with her daggers, moving swiftly and nimbly, and Tivon summoned a reflective mist that kept the gunk the vines threw away, catapulting them right back at the aggressors.

There was the swishing of an arrow through the air when Rox let her arrow loose, the fire making it blaze like a small fireball, and it hit a vine at its base. The fire lapped up, devouring and rising around the vine and making it wither uselessly before it fell against the ground.

Caithe jumped into the air, bringing her legs up high above her, her daggers cutting at a swiping vine beneath her. When she landed she turned so fluidly Tivon scarcely saw the strain of her legs when she moved.

He raised his staff toward her and cast a small wisp at her side to guide her. The small sparkling glimmer of light circled around her, casting a soft light unto her surroundings and enemies, enabling her to manoeuvre with more ease.

It also allowed him to close his eyes and feel her movement, to pour his healing magic into straining fibres and contracting bark to replenish her energy. She noticed his effect and dared more complex and strenuous movements to avoid and cut simultaneously at their enemies, and slowly the vines that had risen from the ground were either living torches or cut in half, slithering away underground and to safety.

Tivon opened his eyes when he felt the shift of sands beneath his feet, but it was no sign of danger. Quite the contrary. “They are retreating.”, Tivon frowned and lowered his staff, the wisp around Caithe slowly flickering out of existence.

“Were these things just sent to tangle us up here as long as possible?”, Rox grumbled and plucked the torch free from the ground, lifting it over her head to shed light over the sharp edges of the cave and the path ahead that turned into a dark bend.

Before Tivon could wonder why, the stone shifted and the ground trembled slightly and from around the bend ahead there was a loud scream that echoed with shrill intensity.

“Sounds like the Aspect Masters are in trouble!”, Rox said, and they moved through the darkness in haste, the light of Rox's torch flickering in the sudden rush of their movements, and when they turned around the bend they saw why the Aspect Master had screamed.

The cave widened broadly into a large, round dome, crevices in the ceiling allowing sunlight to filter through, and pressed against the wall, yellow eyes gleaming like a cat eyeing her prey, was one of the largest Mordrem creatures Tivon had ever seen.

It had large, lithe arms and legs and a long, spiked tail on which dangled a body in a bright, yellow robe. The creature pulled the tail closer and then flung the impaled body to the side, the Aspect Master falling to the floor with a thud.

Tivon rushed forward, jumping over a vine that burrowed form beneath attempting to grasp his ankles and fell onto his knees just beside the woman's body. Beside him the other Aspect Masters looked horrified and slowly lifted their eyes to the enemy that lurked in the shadows, slowly climbing below. It growled lowly, but Tivon only felt the soft rush of air when Rox and Caithe rushed past toward the creature.

He lifted his hand toward the woman's chest, her pale, blue eyes staring up at the ceiling lifelessly, and even though he attempted to pour nature magic inside, the healing didn't take affect. There was no resonance within, nothing answered to his magic. The body was gone, the master dead.

There was a loud cry when Caithe struck her daggers into the creatures skull, her movements too fast for the creature to follow and Rox's arrows hit home, felling the creature after only a few strikes. The loud thud was deafening, and then the other two Aspect Masters joined beside Tivon.

The Master of Wind fell to his knees beside Tivon and watched the woman's features for a moment before he lifted his hand and closed her eyelids. “The Sun shines on you no more. May you be at peace, free of the sufferings of this world. May Glint find you in the darkness, and lead you into her perfect light. Until we meet again.”, he said solemnly. He was quiet for a moment before he looked up at the Master of Lightning.

“I'm no good to our master like this. Please, see it through for me.”, the man asked in a low, brittle voice, heaving in breath, and Tivon noticed the wound that graced over the man's stomach. The blood ad painted the blue robe a dark purple, and in the dim light it was nothing but a dark splatter.

“We've suffered enough losses. I'm taking you to the Pact camp.”, the Master of Lightning replied sharply, grasped the Master of Wind with one arm and lifted him to his feet. “Hopefully, we can trust our friend here to see to the master's safety.”

“You can.”, Tivon nodded and stood as well. “How do we find him?”

The Master of Lightning studied him for a moment before she lifted her free arm and painted with her finger into the air, creating a symbol that hovered there for a few moments. Tivon memorized it as it slowly faded and shifted like grains of sand in the wind. “This is the mark of the Master of Peace. Follow it and you'll find him. May Glint light your way forward.” She adjusted her grip on the Master of Wind. “Now, I must get my friend here to safety.”

The two of them made their way back through the cave and Caithe was the first to speak up before Tivon could offer his assistance to the Aspect Masters. “What do you know about these Zephyrites?” she asked.

“They claim to be heirs of the Brotherhood of the Dragon. You know, keepers of Glint's legacy.”, Rox answered as she collected her arrows.

“We were with Glint when she fell in the Crystal Desert.”, Caithe murmured, her gaze distant for a brief moment before she came from her reverie. “Where do you think the Master of Peace is going?”

“I don't know, but a lot of Zephyrites gave their lives protecting the egg.”, Rox shrugged. “So, what's the plan?”

Tivon had stared after the Aspect Masters until they had disappeared. Their footprints lay heavy in the sand, tracks that could easily be followed – but Tivon was sure that Mordremoth no longer had anything to gin from stopping them. Tivon and his friends now knew – they were the danger. If the Elder Dragon even _knew_ they were here, but the looming presence in the back of his head made it had hard to think otherwise. “We'll continue to look for the Master of Peace.”, Tiovn decided. “Will you tell the others what to look for and lead them?” He turned to look at Rox who came closer toward them, stowing her arrows in her quiver at her back.

“You will continue on ahead?”, Rox asked and Tivon nodded.

“Caithe will be with me. Catch up as soon as you can.”

Rox nodded without argument. “You got it. Come on Frostbite. We better hurry.”

Tivon hoped they reached the Master of Peace before something happened to him. He didn't want to imagine what it would be like to lose the egg to Mordremoth, not after discovering its existence, not after realizing that it was his Wyld Hunt.

“Let's go.”, he beckoned Caithe and she followed without a word.

 


	39. Into the Labyrinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This chapter has some more Braham/Tivon teasers to add to the ultimate confusion once Derwen comes back. It'll be another few long chapters until that happens, but I like to remind you of emotional drama and dilemma whenever I can.  
> Also, especially for you my lovely Lamshire: I am having trouble with the " ' " kind of thing, like, do I write Tivon's or Tivons? I can't remember asking myself this before, but it keeps confusing me and plaguing me for the last few chapters. Perhaps you can enlighten me with you infinite wisdom and impeccable writing skills? <3  
> And for Rae_nger: Thank you for leaving so many lovely comments. You've given me a broad, wide smile to last the whole day!  
> Now let's get this started, shall we?

Tivon knew darkness. He knew the darkness behind his closed eyelids, the darkness of the night, the darkness of a cave without any light, but he'd never known this stifling, chocking heat, the constant presence in his mind, the feeling of drowning in the dark.

The first few meters he'd fought the feeling of terror slowly grasping him like an iron chain, and he'd failed once the constant movement around him came to life. Caithe was beside him one instant – and the next there was a wall of vine, clawing and grasping, separating them from one another and Tivon had jumped back and pressed his body tightly against the wall, breathing rapidly.

The vines seemed to be unable to reach out to him, trapping him against the wall. There was a low growl from somewhere far away, a sound he knew from Mordrem wolves, and slowly he sunk into himself as silence settled in once more. He didn't dare call out to Caithe, afraid he'd stir whatever predator was here with them and closed his eyes.

The vines moved around him constantly, but only inches, up and down, as if breathing. They creaked and scrooped, reminding him of the life in them and the fact that they had a master that was out to get all of them, out to consume magic and life, out to get the egg-

 _The egg_.

Tivon drew in another breath and pushed himself from the wall, inching along it, squeezing through a crevice and breathing more easily when a path opened before him, the vines slightly further apart. It was difficult to see; there was only ever a distant glimmer of water upon the vines and only the sound of their movement to keep him company, which he would gratefully trade with silence.

But he had to do this. He had to push through and find Caithe and the Master of Peace, and they both had to be here, somewhere. Why ever the Master of Peace had come here of all places, Tivon couldn't tell. Everything about this place _screamed_ danger.

There was a loud crunch and he ducked when a vine aimed for his head, slapping against the rock wall over his head and bringing a cascade of stone down. Tivon nimbly moved aside, avoiding the rockfall by bare inches. The sound of rocks sliding against rock echoed for a few terse moments before Tivon dared breathe again. He could feel the presence of the predator with him, instilling a fear and horror he'd rarely ever felt. If he'd search for a similar event in his past, he'd say the Nightmare Tower.

It felt like hours that he wandered, body tense and wound up like a spring ready to release, one hand always on the stone wall in search of a way out, but to his right remained a wall of vines, and the path only seemed to go further and further, leading nowhere.

Tivon slumped down in a corner, assuring himself that the vines were too far away to reach him and closed his eyes . He needed a better strategy, but it was hard to calm down enough to form a collective thought. His instincts told him to flee this place; to run and never look back, but then again, whatever were they good for but keeping him alive?

He _needed_ to find the Master of Peace and the egg. He couldn't stop here, not now. So he pulled his legs under him and inhaled, held, and exhaled. Repeated. One minute, two...and slowly, his surroundings faded, sounds dispersing and rippling out of existence. 

_Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter._

He drew strength from the calmness and the clarity, from the cool and the soothing of his mind. It was replenishing and restoring, slowly easing the anxiety from his shoulders. He remained for a moment longer until he was ripped from his meditation by a sudden growling noise that was entirely too close, and the sound of paws upon sandy floor.

Tivon snapped his eyes open and grasped his staff as he stood, gazing warily into the darkness. The few glitters of sunlight drifting from crevices were not enough to make out any shapes in between the vines, much less discern an approaching enemy from a retreating one. The sound was like a beating drum in his ears and then he felt it under his soles in the sand. He gripped his staff tighter and even though he knew what to expect, he knew an enemy was drawing near, the creature startled him still.

It was the shape of a mordrem wolf, but much, much larger. It came around the corner, fangs bared and eyes gleaming, spurting toward him as if following a scent. Tivon called upon the vines and felt them answering to his magic, shooting them out from the ground toward the wolf. They ensnared and encased the wolf, making the creature give a loud growl and howl.

Its teeth bared against the vines, jaw snapping shut and tearing them off with a twist of its head. It broke free, body twisting and turning from the grasp and Tivon grit his teeth, hand enclosing into a fist in an attempt to keep the creature there, but it was too powerful. When it snapped free Tivon stumbled back and lifted his staff to cast once again and felt something tangle around his wrist, circle around it with a loud slap and the staff flew from his fingers, clattering against the stone wall and out of sight.

The vine curled around his arm and yanked him back and he made a surprised noise, felt the sand beneath his back as he was dragged backwards and gripped the vine, pried it off from his wrist and arm with all the strength he had and withered free, but before he could rise to his feet the wolf lunged and crashed a massive wooden paw against his chest, the other narrowly missing his head.

The air was pressed from his lungs and he raised his arm in an attempt to protect his head and felt teeth bore into his lower arm sharply. He cried out in pain and the wolf kept its jaw shut, twisting its head to the sides in an attempt to rip it off, and Tivon grabbed beneath the wolf's jaw and tore at its throat made from branches and twigs in blind urgency, breaking some pieces apart.

The wolf growled lowly and the jaw on Tivon's arm only tightened, tearing the bark with its sharp teeth and Tivon felt a white, sharp agony that seemed to pierce even his consciousness. Part of him wished the wolf would just tear it off; perhaps it would not hurt so much then. He panted hard, pushing and resisting the pain as best he could and glared back into the yellow gleaming eyes above him that peered down.

Tivon pressed his functioning hand against the wolf and shoved, tried to move it off from him when there was a loud booming noise and coppice exploded around him, the ground trembled and there was a swipe of blue and the wolf yowled open-yawed as it was flung to the side where it crashed against the stone wall with cracking noise and fell to the floor with a thud, releasing Tivon's arm in the process.

“Get _off_.”, a voice growled somewhere over Tivon's head, but it all seemed to happen and pass by in a daze.

The wolf scrambled to its feet, body laying low, ready to pounce and lunge toward him once again. He tensed, body calling upon reserves to make him move and scramble backwards, but he'd barely begun to twitch when the wolf pounced again Tivon lifted his arm to protect himself, but he need not have bothered. There was an inhuman growl that did not come from the wolf, a figure stepped over Tivon's body and there was the swish of something, wheezing through the air, a trail of blue and a mace collided with the side of the wolfs head, shattering the wolf's skull on impact, branches and vines crunching with an uncomfortable noise.

The wolf flew back into the wall, coppice crunching at the collision and the wolf fell into a heap onto the sandy ground and did not rise again. It took Tivon a moment to comprehend what had happened, adrenaline rushing through his ears and body, making it hard to actually _think_.

A hand came to rest on his back and he startled, raising his unharmed arm in a defensive manner when he realized who it was. Braham pulled him up into a sitting position and Tivon blinked up at the norn in confusion. “You OK?”, Braham asked and Tivon nodded, cradling his torn arm closer to his chest.

“Y- yeah, I need a moment.”, he murmured a little dazed, the pain throbbing and thrumming through his arm into his shoulder, his body slowly receding on the amount of adrenaline, the shock slowly subsiding, leaving him with the throb of the pain returning tenfold.

“That looks...bad.”, Kas murmured and this was the first time Tivon dared to look at his arm. Well. What was left of it, anyhow. The bark and fibres that usually kept it together had been torn apart and scattered at the sides, deep holes left where the wolf had bitten like cut strings from a music instrument. His hand did not respond to any of his commands and he winced when he attempted to move it.

He took a deep breath and began to pour his magic into his arm, feeling it trail through the fibres up into his shoulders like a cool stream. The fiery, pulsing pain ebbed away, the magic palliating it immensely. It took a few moments until the fibres and the bark began to regrow and ever so slowly, the open patches and holes bored by the wolfs teeth closed. A soft white glow emitted from where his healing magic worked, illuminating his face and some of his surroundings, and at the edge of his vision he could see Braham's face watching tentatively.

“Braham, what about your shoulder?”, Kas asked suddenly and Tivon stopped and lifted his eyes questioningly at Braham, but the norn averted his eyes.

“It's fine.”, Braham said and rolled his shoulder back as if to demonstrate, the hand on Tivon's back shifting slightly at the movement. “Barely a bruise.”

“Gods, I've never seen a battering-ram impersonated before.”, Kas chuckled. “I think I would have broken every bone before that wall would have given in.”

Tivon twisted to turn and look over his shoulder toward where his friends must have come through the thick vine wall; in it was a large, gaping hole where the vines were supposed to be. Scattered around on the ground were snapped coppice and broken branches, blasted and blown from the impacting force.

_He rammed down a vine-wall_ , Tivon thought and was glad that one of his friends possessed such brutish strength. He'd have had no chance of accomplishing that. Much like Kas, he would have broken everything in his body instead. 

His functioning hand reached upward and cupped Braham's deltoid that was covered by his tunic and parts of his vest, and he could feel Braham startling and saw him turn his head, but his eyes were focussed on Braham's shoulder instead. The magic sunk through the clothes, through to the skin, the layers beneath -

and then Braham shrugged off his hand with a movement of his upper body and shoulder, and the magic that had slowly swelled blinked out of existence when his hand fell from Braham's tunic. Tivon blinked up at the norn in question and Braham shook his head.

“I'm fine.”, Braham said, slightly exasperated. The norn gestured with his chin toward Tivon's arm instead, grimacing. “Have you seen your arm? I think I can see bone.”

Tivon frowned. “We don't have bones.”, he replied perplexed.

“I _know_.”, Braham grumbled. “My point was...”

“It's pretty deep.”, Rox finished for him and Tivon nodded, getting it. He must have hit his head somehow to be quite this slow.

“I'll be fine.”, Tivon told them, his eyes lingering on Braham's shoulder. “If you're hurt-”

“No, no.”, Braham waved the concern away with an impatient gesture of his hand. “Save your energy. We're still no closer to finding the Master of Peace.”

“He's got be around here somewhere.”, Kas put in thoughtfully and Tivon saw her swing her staff from her one palm into the other almost playfully, bur her grim and contemplative expression made it clear that she was anxious, just like the rest of them.

Tivon concentrated once again, his green eyes darting down toward his arm. The remainder of the time he spent with the last few finishing touches until his hand began to twitch and respond again. Deep inside the arm was a thrumming, pulsing ache Tivon thought must be a remaining phantom pain and when he made to stand, Braham almost launched him to his feet with an arm under his shoulder.

Tivon caught his footing after a moment and nodded toward Braham. “Thanks.”, he murmured and Rox held out his staff toward him. He felt somehow much more comfortable holding the staff in his hand again, to have his fingers curl around the wood. With a swishing gesture of his other arm he dust off the sand from his side and legs. “Let's go.”, Tivon nodded through the way his friends had come.

Rox lifted her torch higher into the air and was right beside him, making the process of tracking a lot easier, and with his friends the labyrinth seem less dangerous and looming than it had just moments before. His arm pulsed still, but it was a bearable pain. Soon enough, with a bit of water and sunlight, he'd heal completely.

“He came through here.”, Rox noticed and pulled at a strand of yellow robe that had caught on a thorn. Tivon inspected the cloth and nodded in agreement.

“Then his tracks should lead us further in.”

“Over there.”, Rox gestured with her chin and lifted her torch a tad higher, revealing darkened and slightly faded footprints in the sand. They were covered slightly, and Tivon could see that the predator had come through here at least twice, perhaps searching for the Master of Peace as well.

The tracks lead toward the Centre of the the maze, vines moving and inching only from the corner of their eyes, but not attacking or reaching out toward them any longer. A slope lead upward toward a small, round compartment, walled off by vines, and Tivon saw the figure of the Master of Peace in the distance like a bright sun, the yellow robe gleaming.

He dashed forward, soles digging deep into the sand, and saw that towering over the Master of Peace was a Mordrem creature, large like an etin or a troll, and it's dark, grey eyes pierced Tivon when he approached. The creature turned and threw something toward him, and Tivon ducked away. The gunk splattered against the vine wall and there was a loud buzzing in the air. Where the gunk had landed, flies began to swarm around and finally his friends caught up behind him.

With a quick twist of his staff Tivon managed to trap the creature in place, rooting its legs on the spot, and Braham charged forward with a cry, whereas Kas pointed forward with a pale finger, sending three purple illusions to lunge forward and shatter against the creature's skin.

Braham's mace hit the creature near its belly and it screeched loudly and lifted its arms when Kas' illusions shattered in a bright flash, and it was Rox's arrow that landed right through the creature's eye that ended the fight.

The Mordrem fell backwards, body aching against the vines and Tivon forfeited his control over them. They splintered and broke open when the creature crashed onto the ground and the whole labyrinth seemed to shake.

Braham knelt down beside the Master of Peace and hoisted the old man up and Tivon rushed toward his side, falling to his knees and letting his staff fall into the sand beside him.

“Quickly... “, the Master of Peace said in a weak voice and coughed out blood. It dripped form the Master's chin down his neck, and Tivon put his hand on the old man's chest, but the Master of Peace shook his head and pushed Tivon's hand away feebly. “I'm dying. You're our only hope now. Listen...closely.”

Tivon felt the injury underneath his fingers. The Mordrem must have grabbed the Master of Peace and crushed his ribcage, perforating his lungs. Each breath caused blood to enter the small alveoli, tearing the delicate structures inside. It was a damage caused on such a small level that Tivon was not sure if he could reach, but he did not let the Master's words deter him and placed his hand atop the robe anyhow.

His healing magic poured inside and the Master's breath hitched, but he continued. “I have something...I can no longer protect. You must...understand...its importance to Tyria's future...”

“The egg...”, Jory murmured, and all their eyes except Tivon's glided toward where the egg lay in the sand, a small, golden and oval-shaped object. Tivon felt its call and the power vibrating without looking up, but he dared not look away, not when his task was quite so delicate and imperious.

“We understand.”, Tivon soothed the Master of Peace. His healing magic reached inside, he could feel the pulse of the Master's heartbeat almost as if he held it in his palm. It thrummed less strongly than it should, and Tivon closed his eyes in concentration.

If he could tap into the Celestial Avatar, he could close the wounds. He could bring even the smallest of tissues to sew and thread back together, _he just knew_. A few seconds passed in which the sounds around him faded, he could feel the eyes of his companions anxiously watching him, but he couldn't feel the surge of power, the depth of warmth from inside, the widening and broadening of his mind and soul, he couldn't feel any of those things. 

Frustration boiled inside him and he bit his lip, his eyes still closed. The wound was right there, he could  _feel_ it, but he couldn't  _reach_ . How could he not reach? How, how? 

“ _Meditation; keep your mind steeled and your thoughts on the path. Astral energy flows best without influences interfering; if your thoughts are dishevelled and in disarray, you will disrupt it's natural flux.”_

_No frustration,_ he told himself and forced his shoulders to relax. His thoughts churned, his mind focussed on how much he  _couldn't bring the state to appear_ , and then, slowly, the thoughts dissolved, disappeared into a thin fine mist that scattered into the farthest parts of his head, forgotten. For a moment he felt serene, empty, cool, and then the warmth at his fingertips, his forearm, his mind opening -

“Caithe!”, Jory exclaimed, and the power ceased like a shut gate, rattling Tivon from his focus. “What are you doing?!”, Jory cried and Tivon lifted his head, startled and as he did the life-band of the Master of Peace slipped from his fingers as if he had attempted to catch air. His magic was cut off and he watched when Caithe jumped in an arc and landed gracefully beside the egg, grabbed it and cast him a glance, if only briefly.

“No time to explain!”, she said, and when she lunged, she simply disappeared in a veil of shadow into stealth from sight.

“Caithe!”, Tivon called and rose to his knees but startled once again when the Master of Peace suddenly let out a breath, his _last breath_ , Tivon fell back to sit on his calves, his mind screaming _No, no, don't_ and his hands flying over the Master of Peace's chest, attempting to pour the magic inside one more time -

but the grey, wise eyes now looked far, far beyond and did not meet his own green gaze. His hand shook when he placed it atop the Master of Peace's chest, but the life was gone, drained,  _lifted._ The Master of Peace, gone. Because he'd wavered, because he had faltered. One singular moment of distraction had caused this. 

“Tivon?”, Braham asked who knelt beside him, the norn's large arm holding up the Master of Peaces' body, but the body was languid and limp.

Tivon averted his eyes, guilt constricting his throat, but he brought out the words anyhow. “The Master of Peace is dead.”, he murmured and Braham slowly guided the body to the sandy floor with tenderness and care, and Kas behind them attempted to quench her hiccups. 

“Caithe has the egg.”, Jory said urgently, and the necromancer stood exactly where Caithe had taken the egg and vanished.

The egg. Caithe had the egg. Tivon rubbed his temple, a headache settling in in warm, stinging pulses. “We'll find her.”, he said and forced his voice to calm.

“She's sylvari.”, Jory dead-panned and Tivon looked at her with a frown.

“What are you saying?”, he asked, but he knew what she meant to say. That so far, everything that Mordremoth had done had somehow involved sylvari.

_By the Pale Tree,_ if Caithe was under the dragon's influence and she had the egg... Tivon felt nauseous thinking it and he gulped, slowly retracting his hand from the Master of Peace's chest.

“Nothing. I just... Why would she take off with it? She wouldn't be the first sylvari we've known who—“, Jory began, but Rox cut her off.

“We should follow her before the trail gets cold.”, Rox interjected, her bow drawn, an arrow knocked into the string. She was crouching near where Caithe had disappeared, but even Tivon knew there would be no tracks to follow. Caithe had a life-time of experience running and hiding; it was her speciality. Stealth was her speciality. 

“The Grove.”, Tivon said firmly. “Whether we find her or not, that is our next stop.”

“The Pale Tree? She's been in and out of consciousness ever since the Shadow of the Dragon attacked the summit.”, Kas frowned.

“Who knows Caithe better?”, Jory cut in. “Without consulting the Pale Tree, we can only guess at Caithe's motives.” That was the most scary of all; had Tivon unknowingly given Mordremoth what it sought? He should have... _By the Pale Tree and her branches,_ he should have _questioned_ Caithe's motives instead of jumping at the idea that having a firstborn to help him would make this _easier_.

“I'll send the word to the Grove and find out her condition.”, Rox offered.

“Use Vail, he's fast.”

Rox nodded and gave Frostbite a signal to follow her. Kas quickly stood beside her. “I'm coming with you. I can make a portal once we're close enough.” The both of them made haste down the slope, disappearing out of sight. Without the predator lurking around every corner, the labyrinth felt almost...peaceful and quiet.

“We should return the Master of Peace to his people.”, Braham murmured. “They would want to know his fate.”

“I'll prepare him for travel.”, Jory said and both Braham and Tivon stepped away to give her space. It was a quiet, solemn duty, and Tivon watched, but his mind drifted. _I could have saved him_ , he thought mournfully. _If only I-_

The hand on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts and he noticed Braham beside him, the norn casting him a tentative glance. “You OK?”, Braham asked carefully.

“I...I could have saved him.”, Tivon murmured, his gaze lingering on the body of the Master of Peace.

“It's not your fault.”, Braham soothed candidly. “We need to concentrate on finding Caithe and the egg.”

“I _brought_ Caithe here.”, Tivon reminded Braham. “It's my fault she was here. I trusted her.”

“You think her intentions are...bad?”

“I...I don't know.”, Tivon replied honestly. It felt terrible, to be _this_ close to his Wyld Hunt, to having the egg in his grasp, and to lose it so shortly after. “It's my Wyld Hunt. I can't...whatever her intentions are, I can not let her keep it.”

“What is a Wyld Hunt...exactly?”, Braham asked hesitantly. “One time you say it's your purpose to defeat Mordremoth, and now it's an egg.”

“It's...a calling. Some sylvari are bestowed with a task by the Dream, a task that drives their entire existence. It's impossible to ignore it, or to not strive for its completion. In the Dream of Dreams the Wyld Hunt may be represented by things that are seen; visions and symbols or even parts of the future, but they are very vague.” Tivon took a deep breath. “When I first awakened, I dreamed of Vail and Derry, and as we ran we crossed into a shadow, a plane of darkness and Derry shattered. That shadow...it was the Shadow of the Dragon.”

“But that's got nothing to do with the egg.”, Braham frowned.

“The Dream is not always very clear on what needs to be done. In the beginning I only knew it had something to do with the Maguuma jungle...nothing more. Then we met Scarlet and found out about Mordremoth, and now, the egg. The vision the Pale Tree showed me was an addition to what I had already seen prior to my awakening.”

“So, it can change meanings.”

“I...misinterpreted it, at first.”, Tivon admitted. “But I am sure now. That it drew me to the Maguuma Jungle because of the egg, and not necessarily to defeat Mordremoth. Perhaps those two do not rule out one another, but I can not be certain.”

“Seems wishy-washy if you ask me.”, Braham shrugged. “Why are these visions so important? If we deal with Mordremoth, everything else will be fine. It won't go after the egg, it won't harass and attack innocents _and_ it never gets a chance to twist your head.”

“...Maybe.”, Tivon relented. “But fighting an Elder Dragon is no easy task to accomplish. The Pact did it once and at a great cost. We have no way of knowing what awaits us with Mordremoth.”

“It's still the safest option instead of trusting visions.”

“Braham, they are not _merely_ visions.”, Tivon protested. “They may be hard to decipher, but all of them speak truth; the Dream does not give us a task that can not be completed. We can die in the pursuit of it, but that does not make a Wyld Hunt less relevant, and less imperious.”

“I don't get why _that's_ more important than getting rid of the dragon that is _causing_ the problem.”, Braham argued. “We don't even know what the egg _does_.”

“It's Glint's last egg.”, Tivon answered, and even though he was usually calm, the fact that everyone seemed to begin to doubt him and his visions, _his very calling_ , was making him wonder if they always had been quite so distrustful, or if perhaps they truly did not understand. Either way: it frustrated him. “It has been in stasis, and if it hatches we might have a dragon fighting _beside us_ rather than against us.”

“Might.”, Braham echoed. “Or it's only use is a fancy scrambled egg.”

Tivon opened his mouth, a comment about Braham's infinite appetite and most insensitive humor on the tip of his tongue when Jory cut in.

“I'm done.”, Jory called and Braham stepped away, broad hand falling from Tivon's shoulder with a wide grin, and even though the hand was no longer there, Tivon could feel it's weight and warmth like an imprint on his bark. He'd forgotten it was there the whole time they had argued, and now he felt ridiculous for even arguing about something like this.

It mattered very little that Braham did not understand; Tivon knew the norn would go with him, just as Tivon would if their roles were reversed. He would trust Braham's judgement, and he knew from that grin that Braham trusted his.

Tivon shook his head with a smile. “Then let's go.”, he beckoned Jory and Braham to follow. They would head to camp Resolve and bring back the Master of Peace – and then, hopefully, seek counsel with someone in the Grove who had some answers.

 


	40. The Newly Awakened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written like three weekends ago and I debated with myself whether I want to even go into the whole backstory of Faolain/Caithe/Wynne or skip it. Can you imagine when a few days after asking myself that I was almost horrified at my laziness? Skipping chapters? Nuh-uh. Nope.  
> At least not these because they are essential to the whole plot. We all know I didn't have Tivon travel back to Fort Salma with Kas and Jory just for the sake of seeing a sword infused. It's not as crucial to the plot as _this_.  
>  Okay, so much for my own little backstory (my transition game is on, people). Have fun an enjoy yourselves :3

They arrived in the Grove during nightfall long before they got an answer from the Pale Tree or any of the Wardens that cared for her. Tivon and his friends rested in an accommodation meant for travellers – meaning they all had their own bed, a hearth, and other things that humans, norn and charr required which sylvari did not.

It was built very much like all houses of sylvari; a honed bough from a plant, or a mushroom grown overly large and then carved, but the interior was adjusted to the needs of the many other races that came to marvel and admire the grove.

Tivon found beds the most peculiar things of them all. Sylvari slept in hammocks woven from plants, vines and fibres, swinging gently with each movement, whereas human beds were squishy, soft and entirely too hot with the many layers of blankets and sheets that were required. Norn beds were similar – with only the difference of being larger and slightly harder. Tivon enjoyed sleeping in neither and preferred the ground if a hammock was not available. Braham had benefited from that, gaining two normal-sized beds to himself whenever they had travelled together.

They all settled in comfortable chairs woven from vines and brambles, discussing their most recent discoveries. There were a lot of theories about why Caithe had taken the egg – few of them reaching as far as suggesting that she had fallen prey to Mordremoth's call, others claiming that she was a loner, and trusted nobody's abilities but her own.

Tivon listened, but he was quiet. The headache had not left since the Labyrinth, a low thrum in the back of his skull, never leaving a moment of respite.

“How do they build these things?”, Kas wondered in awe, her eyes trailing of the carvings along the wall and ceiling.

“Looks like someone carved the mushroom.”, Rox shrugged, her claws around a cup of ale, but she too glanced around, frowning.

“Some sylvari are more gifted to give shape to an idea.”, Tivon answered. “Just as every sylvari can grow armor from their own bark, some extend that ability to create living quarters, weapons, houses...the spirals surrounding the Pale Tree.”

“Oh.”, Kas made and glanced down at him, her eyes trailing over the leaves and branches that gently curled around his body. “I thought it just...grows.”

He felt all their eyes on him now, and a nervousness prickled over his skin. Being the Centre of attention quite so suddenly, with eyes roaming over his body felt...really awkward. Tivon leaned forward and placed his forearm on the table, showing them all a small stubble that was beginning to grow from it's middle, and the movement hid most of the rest of his body from view. “I'll show you.”, Tivon offered and his friends leaned forward, suddenly rapt and curious.

The stubble was so small it was barely half as broad as a nail, and it shivered slightly when Tivon coaxed it to grow. Slowly it extended, growing longer and thin, staying close to his skin and circling around his forearm until it reached his wrist. There he stopped it and looked up, and noticed that his friends looked perplexed and in awe.

“That's...amazing.”, Kas breathed. “Can you do that with anything?”

“I am not a gardener.”, Tivon shrugged and leaned back again, grateful that their attention no longer was all over him, but rather the small vine that now curled gently against his wrist. “They are the ones that take care of the plants here in the Grove, that watch over their growth and health. Every generations adds something new and furnishes the old.”

“But you can summon vines from nothing.”, Kas put in, her eyes tracing over toward his wooden staff that leaned against the column of the chair.

His head throbbed like a pulse of its own, but he tried to ignore it. The headache had nothing to do with Kas' questions, not at all. He was not annoyed by her curiosity; he found himself in her state more often than not. Perhaps he should drink something as well. When the waitress approached, a female sylvari with a beautiful array of red- and yellow blooms combed back over her head, small strands of vines curling against her cheeks, he ordered some water.

“It's similar.”, Tivon admitted after the female sylvari sauntered off. “But the vines I control are not the ones to construct anything that is meant to last. Their whole purpose is for a small window of time in which I fuel them, and to shrivel once I do not. My abilities are a weapon, whereas shapers and gardeners use their abilities to build something everlasting. It takes longer to build something like this than to conjure a vine-wall that is not meant to last.”

Kas nodded, getting it. “That's so fascinating.”, she breathed. “I should keep some notes; I could write a book about sylvari agriculture and society.”

Jory chuckled. “And you'd be in Tivon's ears all day.”

“I imagine my curiosity is nothing short of polite and honest.”, Kas said with a teasing smile. “It's a common interest, I am sure.”

“Perhaps you could address why sylvari have no showers.”, Jory brought in.

“They do!”, Kas defended. “They have these...pots? You just stand beneath and the water continuously flows from the pot.”

“ _Cold_ water.”, Rox clarified and looked as though she was thinking of a rather unpleasant experience.

“And the cabins are small.”, Braham cut in, having the same look on his face.

“ _And,_ ”, Jory added with a smirk, “They don't care that you're naked in front of everyone.”

The group laughed at that, a small chuckle erupting from Tivon's throat. It was true; sylvari cared little for exposing their bodies as human's or norn did. They had, in common interest, decided to cover themselves simply so the other races would not be embarrassed in their presence. They were after all, and for whatever reason, shaped to look like humans, if smaller and thinner. That caused some kind of distress in humans whenever they saw them bare.

Among themselves, sylvari were unashamed of their bodies; Tivon would not have thought it strange to see the others of his kin naked, he would not give it much thought. He had seen it often enough, and he had not cared. There was something lifting and freeing about being able to walk without covering yourself, but he understood why humans, charr, asura and norn felt that way. For them it was a state of vulnerability shared only in secluded quarters and Tivon now understood better than before; why baring ones self open was quite dangerous and terrifying, and why the other races were so careful.

He remembered feeling nervous, giddy, _thrilled._ Now there was only trepidation and guilt in the wake of his memories, and whenever his thoughts derailed strongly enough to actually have him reminiscence about the time he and Derwen had been together, his body felt...betrayed. Used. And in the end, not only his body, but his mind, his heart, his soul...felt discarded.

It was hard not to wonder about whether Derwen had actually felt the same as he had. It was hard not to ponder if anything like that could be real, especially after Tivon had learned the truth.

With a deep breath Tivon pushed the thoughts away, eyes trailing over the parches earth and grass. He remembered a rainy, stormy day he'd spent in the Grove, one of his very first days after awakening. Sylvari relished sunlight, and it was not rare to have one or the other halt and still and smile toward the sky.

Rain was even more so. Some sylvari banded together to dance in the downpour, laughing heartily as the rain watered parched ground, roots...and therefore, bringing growth. Life. Perhaps their joy was so strong because that was the sole life sylvari could bring. Make nature grow. Bring a plant to reach for the sun and bloom. They could not conceive life, much unlike humans, norn, charr and asura. Tivon found it even hard to imagine sometimes, and his eyes trailed toward Kas and Jory.

Their relationship was peculiar for human standards, Tivon knew, but he could not imagine them without the other. Jory was dark, calculating and Kas was passionate, charming, and kind. Two opposites drawing each other in.

His eyes trailed toward the entrance, and his thoughts drifted. It had been so long since he'd felt rain. Maguuma was a land of sand, desert sun and arid climate. He wished to feel it again before he left, but the air smelled clear, no heavy laden scent permeating the air.

And he couldn't stay. Caithe was out there with the egg...doing the Pale Tree knew what. Even though the conversation had shifted, Tivon barely noticed. He wasn't listening, and his worry grew from one second to the next.

_Caithe is a firstborn_ , he soothed himself and grasped the cup the waitress must have brought absent mindedly, staring into it's clear contents.  _She is strong. She would be able to resist Mordremoth's Call._

“Do we know when the Pale Tree wakens?”, Tivon asked abruptly and a bit anxiously, but he hoped it did not show.

“I spoke with one of these sylvari, and he said the Pale Tree could wake up at any time. They've promised us to let us know if she wakes.”, Jory informed him.

“That may take time.”, Kas murmured thoughtfully. “She was hit badly by Mordremoth's attack.”

“The Pale Tree can tell us what Caithe's intentions are and where she went.”, Tivon insisted, and Jory lost some of her cheer.

“I hope so.”, she murmured sceptically.

“Is something on your mind?”, Tivon asked carefully and Jory straightened.

“I guess I just don't understand why this egg is so important. How is an egg going to help us take down Mordremoth? The Pact is about ready to leave...without us.”

The whole table seemed to tense and fall into contrition at her words. “I know killing Mordremoth means a lot to you.”, Tivon murmured and barely noticed as the waitress put down the cup of water and left without interjecting herself. His fingers curled around the handle nervously as he watched the frown deepen in Jory's features.

“It...killed my sister.”, Jory said bitterly and her dark eyes burned with hatred and she glared at her hands, focussing her wrath not on one of them, but an image in her head: Tivon thought it possibly involved Jory's sword sticking through Mordremoth's body – whatever that looked like. Ethereal as the Elder Dragon was, images like that were nothing but ideas, but the motivation behind it breathed life to Jory's purpose.

“Jory...”, Kas murmured and placed a soothing hand on her girlfriends shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and Jory lifted her gaze and gave her a grateful weak smile that did not reach her eyes. Her hatred, the vengeance she sought... Tivon wondered if it would continue to grow and consume her, or if she would be able to accept Kas' help.

“If...you truly want to be with the Pact, then I will not hinder you.”, Tivon said. Despite that their paths might diverge, he would never hold Jory down simply by the bounds of their friendship. If her desire was to bring Mordremoth down, if her mind burned with the passion for it, Tivon had no right to stop her. His own path was very similar after all – and he'd listen to the counsel of his friends, but his course was set. “I won't trap you here. All I can tell you is that the egg is my Wyld Hunt and that somehow, Mordremoth deems it a great threat. Perhaps it can hatch, and the dragon inside will be on our side, but I can not be certain.”

Jory's eyes hardened. “There is still so much we don't know.”, she murmured in dismay. “I am just not sure what we can do here. Even if the Pale Tree wakens sometime soon, we could help the Pact prepare instead.”

“Then I'll go.”, Kas volunteered. “You are right; Tiv doesn't need all of us here. Whatever the Pale Tree will tell you, it doesn't require us. I'll take Rox and Braham with me to help the Pact prepare the launch.”

“Go back into action?”, Braham lifted his chin, having stared at the space between his large, folded hands. “I'm in.”

Rox, of course, would follow Braham into hell and back if need be. “It makes sense.”, she agreed. “All of us here are doing little good except crowd the place.”

“I can deal with this myself.”, Tivon brought in and Jory's eyes pierced his. He felt as if she was scrutinizing him, assessing him. She was fighting with the desire to go – and the obligation she felt to stay. Tivon did not want their friendship to be a _burden,_ but the fight was decided in Jory's mind before he could dissuade her. 

“No.”, Jory answered curtly. “I'll stay with you. One of us should.”

Her voice was cold and even though Tivon knew she trusted him, that she'd said she'd give her life for him...he was afraid she was the only one to mistrust him.

_No, don't let that get in your head,_ Tivon scolded himself and nodded.

“Thank you.”, he said instead. He was certain he could withstand Mordremoth, but with one of his friends nearby to talk, he'd have even less trouble.

“Are you certain the egg will help us win this war?”, Jory asked sharply and folded her dark, sleeved arms in front of her chest. It felt as though the others were not even there when she looked at him like that.

Testing. Calculating. Judging.

Even though Tivon could not know for sure, the answer came from the bottom of his soul. “Yes.” Because all of _this_ , all of his life had lead him here. It had lead him from Southsun to Derwen and from there to Scarlet, to his rebirth and now, into the Maguuma Jungle toward Glint's egg. It could not all be for nothing. He refused to believe that.

She stared him down for a few seconds and then slowly relaxed and nodded. “Alright. I'm with you.”

Braham was the first to stand, his fingers splayed across the table when he erected himself. “Then we should get going, or the Pact might be done before we arrive.”, he jested and placed a large, broad hand on Tivon's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You'll be fine?”

“Yeah.” Tivon nodded encouragingly and held back the urge to clasp his hand atop Braham's own.

Braham nodded and lifted his hand and Rox gave Tivon a broad smile. Kas leaned down and hugged him before she followed the other two, and Jory and Tivon watched them go in silence.

  
  


It was one day later when the messenger finally arrived. “Ah, someone's coming. Good news, hopefully.”, Jory grum ped. She was quiet company, lost in thought more often than not. He had been unable to interest her in anything else other than that what they were here for, which was not surprising considering the drive she had.

Her behaviour, however, had an impact on him as well. It made the situation with Mordremoth seem that much more dire than when he was with Braham and Rox; her cold, calculating comments about keeping on the task were understandable, but it was as if she had nothing else on her mind but vengeance and blood, and that negativity painted itself like a mirror on Tivon's mood.

Tivon recognized the sylvari who approached when he lifted his gaze at Jory's comment. It was mender Aine. “Friend.” she greeted blandly, if a bit out of breath. “She's aware now, but we can never predict for how long. Follow me, please.”

Tivon and Jory stood and did as they were bid, the seed carrying them to the now all-too familiar Ompahlos Chamber. Resting beneath the arc of branches and leaves was the Pale Mother, her form even paler than Tivon remembered, as if she had never left ever since that time at the summit.

“Mother, I have brought Tivon who has asked to see you.”, Aine hushed gently and helped the Avatar of the Pale Tree to rise into a sitting position on the floor, her legs angled beside her, her arm holding her up unsteadily.

The Avatar of the Pale Tree looked up with hazy eyes. She looked tired, _exhausted_ even, but she smiled at Tivon when he knelt down beside her. “Good.”, she whispered faintly, and Jory waited a few steps away, uncertain if her presence was an intrusion. “I was hoping to see you soon. The vision...Have you made any progress...with it?”

“I believe so.”, Tivon answered softly and he rested his hand atop the Pale Tree's shoulder. “I found the egg, but...”

The Pale Tree sighed and closed her eyes. “What a relief. You may have just saved Tyria. The struggle is far from over, but if you had failed to find and protect the egg, it would have been over before it began.”

“Caithe has the egg in her custody.”, Tivon continued slowly. “We're trying to find her.”

“Caithe has the egg?”, the Pale Tree asked, suddenly seeming more awake. A frown creased the line of her eyebrows and she blinked at him in confusion. “Why? You, you're the one who must care for it. Not Caithe. That's why I gave you the vision.”

“I know, but for some reason I don't understand, she ran off with it.”, Tivon explained as soothingly as he could without transmitting that he knew nothing of Caithe's intentions and that he was utterly terrified of the idea that Caithe might be working for Mordremoth.

“Oh.”, The Pale Tree made. “Well, you must find her. I can help, but my powers in this regard are...limited.”

Tivon nearly sighed a breath of relief. If his mother had this kind of reaction, then surely she did not believe Caithe to be in Mordremoth's grasp. The egg was safe, for now. “What can we do?”, Tivon asked.

“Maybe if you knew...more about her past. I can give you four memory seeds. They will...allow you to search her memories for places that are significant...to her.” Each word seemed to sap strength from her, her voice growing more and more quiet. The Avatar turned toward Aine, who was quiet and still as an oak, watching carefully. “Aine, please give Tivon the memory seeds. It will reveal a slice of Caithe's history to you. Among those memories, you will perhaps find something that will guide you to her.”

“These are precious, Mother.”, Tivon reminded the Avatar of the Pale Tree hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to give me four?”

“I'm sure.”, the Pale Tree nodded. “Nothing is more important...”, she took a deep breath. “...than this mission. You must find the egg and see to its...security.”

“I...have never used one.”, Tivon admitted.

“I'll let Aine explain them to you. I am...so tired. She has all the knowledge you need. Aine, if you please.”

Aine nodded and Tivon bowed his head. “Thank you, mother. And you, Aine. I will not waste this gift.”

The Avatar of the Pale Tree smiled at him wearily. “You...must bring the egg into your possession, my son.”, she whispered. “Tyria depends on it. You _must_ keep it safe.”

Tivon swallowed and nodded. The importance of this mission seemed a weight that grew with each step he took, each path more urgent to be taken than the last. “I will, Mother.”

“Come.”, Aife said softly and guided Tivon toward the back of the chamber where a few memory seeds had been planted. Tivon knew of their existence, but he had never used them.

“Keep the memory seeds in a safe, dry place. They will sprout when you choose the right spots to use them.”, Aife explained. Her voice was soft and her movements gentle. She had dark, coal-like skin and dark, red leaves that fell over the side of her head with bright, purple eyes. Tivon found them piercing, despite her gentle nature. “The seeds are magically attuned to read your intent. If you think about Caithe, then your intuition will guide you to a place that was important to Caithe. Once you find the right spot, plant a seed.”

“What will happen when I do?”

“You'll view one of Caithe's memories through her eyes. You will feel in control, but you will be Caithe. Important events will play out as they did in days gone by.”

“Where do these seeds come from?”, Jory asked curiously, eyeing the seeds with piqued interest.

“They come from our mother.”, Aine explained softly. “They're highly magical and can be guided by your will to show you memories rooted in a particular location. But you must focus on your target.”

“And they allow me to see other's memories?”, Jory pressed, eyes glittering. Tivon could see the appeal; Jory was a detective at heart, after all.

“Events leave impressions in the magic around us. More emotional ones can linger a long time. The seeds guide you to them.”

“Do they work with anyone's memories?”, Jory shifted slightly, just _slightly_ , but enough for Tivon to notice that she was interested.

“No.”, Aife answered blandly. “Only sylvari. They're tied to Dream magic, well beyond my understanding.”

“Hm.”, Jory made, covering her thoughts behind a stoic mask.

Aine took a seed from the ground and gently dropped it in Tivon's hand. It was light, thrumming with a soft, gentle magic much like the air around the Pale Mother. It was so very small, visible against the dark of his palm and Aine gestured toward a small place beside her. “Use the first seed here in the Grove. It's where Caithe's roots are.”

Tivon stepped forward and knelt down, the seed responding with soft pulses. Carefully he planted it upon the ground and focussed on his last image of Caithe, the way she'd jumped and gracefully landed to grab the egg, only to disappear in shadow shortly after.

_Why have you done this?_ Tivon wondered and his vision swam, blurred at the edges and dissolved. His body was dragged forward, pulled through a haze and then suddenly everything was back to normal and he rose from the ground.

He felt...strange.

Something was off. His movements felt odd, his body felt...awkward. When he looked down at himself he realized why.

He was _Caithe_. Or rather, in her body.

There were voices behind him and he turned around and saw that many firstborn had gathered in the Omphalo's Chamber. His skin prickled when he saw Faolain, the founder of the Nightmare Court, standing right here in the middle of everything. She was a fistborn with dark skin, branches and nails, her hair nothing but gnarled branches erecting into the air atop her head. Her eyes were cold and calculating, onyx shards that could pierce at will.

His first impulse was to draw a weapon, but his actions were not his own. He stepped forward beside her without a word, listening in. “Oh, please, Trahearne.”, Faolain said with a sneer and rolled her eyes. “Don't tell me you're up here contemplating the words o f a long-dead centaur.”

“I know what you think of Ventari's tablet, but I find wisdom in it.”, Trahearne said levelly. Tivon almost expected Sgileas to pop out from the shadows, but he realized that there were only firstborn gathered here, and that back in this time, Sgileas and he had not even awakened yet.

“Do you even consider other views? Filling the heads of this new crop with only one side doesn't seem responsible.”, Faolain argued.

“Ventari's tenets will help them make something of themselves, my dear. All sentient beings feel that urge.”, Trahearne explained blandly.

“Exactly.”, she cut in. “To make something of themselves, not to live up to someone else's ideal of what they should be.”

Trahearne sighed and turned away, wandering toward the seed and disappearing from sight. He must have given up talking to Faolain.

“Caithe.” Faolain's voice was sharp, and even though Tivon startled, his body turned calmly. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Of course.”, Caithe said, in her voice, and feeling his mouth move without his consent was disquieting.

“After the gathering today, we must corner Wynne and get her to tell us what she was talking to Mother about.”, Faolain urged with determination.

Caithe sighed. “You're obsessing again. You know how we night blooms are about our secrets.”

“This is important, Caithe.”, Faolain insisted and stepped a bit closer. “She knows something that could hold sway over all sylvari. That's not trivial.”

Caithe laughed. “You don't know that's true. You overheard a portion of a conversation—out of context, no less.”

Faolain did not seem deterred. “I know! C'mon. We're going to be late for the gathering.”

The world shifted once again, dissolved and reformed, and Tivon only heard and caught snips from a conversation. He heard a voice he knew but could not discern, and Faolain, once again, but could see nothing but the blur of green, blue and dark.

“The elders follow without thinking. This tablet, it's a farce. They cling to it because it tells them how to behave.”, the male voice said, slightly hushed and with a hint of anger. “But we, we have our own minds. We do not swallow whole the old philosophies. We...are better than that. Can you meet tomorrow night to discuss the tablet? Midnight.”

“Hm.”, Faolain made. “I'll be there. It'll be good to speak with others of a similar mind.”

The voices faded into the distance, the blurs passing by more swiftly and surely, swirling as if he was caught in a maelstrom, and then suddenly he was in the Omphalo's chamber once again with the other firstborn.

“Thank you all for coming.”, a female sylvari said, and even though Tivon had not seen her before, a name popped into his head. _Wynne_. “ We're here to discuss our newly awakened and how we can best assist them.”

“You say assist, but you mean mold.”, Faolain brought in sharply. “You want to make them all into your version of good little sylvari.”

“No. “, Trahearne disagreed, voice calm. “As firstborn, it is our responsibility to care for and guide these...secondborn.”

“The newly awakened—let's not call them "secondborn"—could benefit from our knowledge of Ventari's tenets.”, Wynne urged, and Faolain rolled her eyes.

”Oh, please.”

“Knowledge is central to happiness and long life. We have experienced more of the world than these newly awakened. They endanger themselves without realizing it.”, Trahearne argued.

“Predators will prey.”, Caithe murmured thoughtfully.

“Caithe, I'm aware of no creature in this world that doesn't defend its young from predators. Perhaps not always successfully, but often to the point of their own death.” Trahearne directed his yellow eyes toward him, toward _Caithe_ and even thought Tivon knew he was in Caithe's skin, somehow he felt trapped by those eyes.

“Are we creatures? Do we know that for sure?”, Caithe asked.

“I am a thinking, feeling, being—as are you. There's never been a race like ours. We're unique, undoubtedly formed to do great things.”, Trahearne said blandly and then frowned. “But we're also vulnerable.”

“You think too much, Trahearne.”, Caithe said, both in jest and serious undertone. Tivon found it hard to place, even being the one to speak the words.

“The ability to think is the prelude to free will.”, Trahearne said. “We are young, and there are many dangers out there. If we don't all work together, one strong enemy or illness could wipe us out completely.”

That seemed to sober Caithe somewhat. “What a horror if our race ceased to exist. We've worked so hard to survive.”

“Keep that thought close to your heart, Caithe. It will guide you, all your life, to do the right thing by our people.”, Trahearne insisted and Caithe nodded thoughtfully. How was it that even among his peers, Trahearne was still considered to be the wisest? Was it truly because he was oldest?

The firstborn Niamh was the next one to speak. “I believe these new sprouts can be leveraged to improve life in the Grove. We are not safe until we take our own defense seriously. We need wardens to guard us.”

“It would keep them busy and hopefully out of trouble.”, Caithe agreed thoughtfully.

“I feel called to make our home safe.”, Niamh said with a smile playing at her lips as if she remembered a pleasant memory. “I plan to organize a protective force for us, and I'll ask the sprouts to volunteer for it.”

The next voice that spoke sent a shiver through Tivon. It was Malomedis, looking just like the time he had when Tivon had first met him. Dark skin, calculating eyes, and yet a soft and wise expression. “We went so long without losing one of our own, but first Riannoc and now three of our newly awakened have been killed already. This is unacceptable.”, Malomedis put in, his dark eyes almost glaring. 

“This is life, Malomedies.”, Caithe put in, voice sober and almost brutally cold. “At least now we know that we can die. Many will leave the Grove before all is said and done. We cannot stop them.”

“I try to find time to help each of the new sprouts interpret their Dreams, but it's becoming difficult with so many awakening.”, Kahedis put in thoughtfully. “I fear some will go astray and misinterpret their Wyld Hunts.”

“It's been several months now since the first new sprouts began to appear. They're awakening at an increasingly steady pace. If it doesn't stop soon...”, Dagonet trailed off and they all understood. _We'll be overrun_.

“I don't understand how anyone can be indifferent to our own kind.”, Wynne shook her head, the leaves atop her head rustling at the motion. “We are so few and so fragile. Trying too hard to be noble...and good. We must rely on and support one another. No matter what.”

“This is a waste of time.”, Faolain said sharply and erected herself, the branches atop her head moving along with the movement of her head when she shifted. “These newly awakened don't need to be coddled. We didn't need anyone holding our hands or indoctrinating us with unexamined philosophies.”

“But they're not us. Maybe Wynne is right. Maybe we should—“, Caithe began, but Faolain did not let her finish.

“If we do anything, we should encourage them to think for themselves, depend on themselves. Besides, Wynne can't be trusted. She keeps secrets from us.” The glare Faolain threw over to Wynne was nothing short of scalding, but Wynne stood her ground and even puffed out her chest, staring Faolain down in return.

”If Wynne knows something of import, she will tell us.”, Trahearne brought in, his voice soothing and easing the waves of anger that permeated the air. “But let's not change the subject, please. We're discussing the secondborn.”

“Are we officially calling them secondborn, then?”, Caithe wondered.

“That's a terrible name for them, Trahearne.”, Wynne argued. “And thus, we make an official chasm between them and us. We are all just sylvari.”

“We did awaken first, though.” murmured Caithe.

“So much talking. Maybe we just all need to agree that we do the best for them that we can. Aiming for perfection leads only to certain failure.” Wynne was still staring at Faolain, and the to-be Nightmare Courtier seethed, ”Don't look at me that way, Wynne. You know I'm right. Whatever your secret is, I'll dig it out of you.”

“I have no secret.”, Wynne dead-panned. “You know everything I know.”

“Don't lie to me.”, spat Faolain. “I heard you whispering to Mother. I heard you say there was something that could give unspeakable power over all sylvari. What were you talking about?”

The others were painfully quiet and Wynne shook her head. “I have to go. I'm travelling to a centaur refuge in the Silverwastes to research Ventari. We'll talk later, Faolain.”

Faolain glared after Wynne with suspicion, but before she could speak, a secondborn came rushing toward the firstborn, interrupting their meeting fully. “Elders!”, the Sapling cried. “I bring grave news! Please, listen!”

The sylvari wore an expression of a frightened child, body quivering and breath coming in staccato breaths, heaving his chest with each pull of air.

“Take a deep breath, sapling. What's your hurry?”, Caithe asked soothingly and stepped forward. The Sapling lifted his eyes and now Tivon could see the wide eyes, the expression of fear.

“Small imp-like creatures. We just wanted to explore beyond Mother's roots. They appeared out of nowhere!”

“Asura, I'd guess.”, Trahearne murmured and stepped closer. “Malomedies had an...encounter with them not long ago. He was lucky to survive.” The firstborn frowned. “Where did they go?”

“They took them northwest into the forest. I followed them awhile, but then I felt I should come get help.”, the Sapling brought out. “They said something about returning to "Metrica" before I lost their trail.”

“Caithe, Faolain, you two had the most experience in the wild. Would you scout ahead?”, Tahearne asked, his yellow eyes snapping toward the duo. “The secondborn are precious. We cannot allow them to be killed to assuage some ignorant race's curiosity.”

“At last, something we can agree on, Trahearne.”, Faolain smiled. “I can't wait to teach these imps a lesson. You and me, together.” The last part she said with a glance toward Caithe, and Tivon felt his mouth twitch, but he did not smile. Caithe didn't smile.

“We'll rescue as many as we can. They treated Malomedies terribly. I hope they're not so harsh with this group.”

Faolain beckoned her to follow. “They're going to remember the day they met the two of us!”

Tivon moved, the world shifted, the Omphalo's chamber disappeared and turned and suddenly he found himself in his own time once again, kneeling on the ground. When he came to he blinked his eyes open, his body feeling stiff and weary, but the feeling wore off after a few seconds.

Jory was right in front of him and held out a hand for him to grasp, and he took it with thanks. “What happened? What did you see?”, she asked.

“I was Caithe, in my race's early years. I saw Faolain and Trahearne.”

“The leader of the Nightmare Court?”, Jory was intrigued. “It must have been fascinating to hear how they interacted back then. I'm jealous. But did you learn anything that will help us find Caithe?”

“They went to Metrica.”, Tivon told her and she caught on.

“Metrica Province? That area is populated with asura. Why are they going there?”

“They were tracking some "imps" that had kidnapped a group of secondborn.”, Tivon explained.

“Imps?”, Jory chuckled, amused by the term. “All right. Then that is where we are heading next, yes?”

Tivon nodded, glad that the lead seemed to ease some of Jory's gloom. A detective such as her must be driven to reach a conclusion once a path presented itself – and this was the perfect opportunity for that.

 


	41. Meeting the Asura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, Vorpp was a real douche bag, wasn't he?  
> I wonder why the canon commander never lets Canach know about this "We visited your past thing". Would Canach be embarrassed? Too haughty to care? Or pretend not to care? I might have to go and find out :3

“This is the place?”, Jory asked, her eyes trailing over the asuran laboratory. “It's run by the Inquest. We'll have to be careful. I'll watch your back while you're in the vision.”

Tivon glanced up as well and noticed how very large the lab was. It stood adjourning to a cliff and a glade, behind it a mountainside that reached further beyond. It's walls were grey stone, large windows of translucent, blue material that shimmered and softly waved like water offering little to no view inside at all. Around the building lay traps and devices made to detect intruders which Tivon was able to detect and avoid as he knelt down on the ground, the seed vibrating in his hand eagerly.

_Come on,_ he thought,  _Caithe, what did you do here?_

The world shifted, the sounds distorted and when he rose, everything around him seemed to slowly snap and fall into place once again like a puzzle. It looked hardly unchanged, except for a few trees that were smaller, bushes that had not yet grown, and the devices on the ground that were gone. 

“Hold up a second.”, he heard himself say in Caithe's voice, and it was no less disquieting than the first time. His head turned toward Faolain that was walking abreast beside him, the Courtiers (Or not-yet-but-soon-to-be-Courtier) glared up at the stone walls, her focus on the Inquest that lay ahead. “Why are you so interested in Cadeyrn and his dissenters?”

Faolain glanced at Caithe and shrugged. “It's simple, really. From the moment we awakened, our mother has molded us into an idealized version of nobility. She doesn't see or care who we are, so long as we match her ideal of us.”

Caithe lowered her gaze. “I've felt it, too. The pressure to be perfect.”

Faolain grasped her hand – _his hand –_ and he wanted to recoil, but Caithe's body didn't move. “ Yes.”, Faolain said, her eyes lingering. “And the pain that comes with failing to live up to her expectations. Why can't she love us unconditionally? She claims to believe that all weeds and blossoms are equal. Yet, she tries to make us all into blossoms.”

Caithe looked up at Faolain, and Tivon felt his stomach make a somersault. “I love you, just as you are.”

_By the Pale Tree,_ he wasn't going to witness this, was he? He really,  _really_ did not want to.

Faolain smiled. “We belong together. C'mon, my darling. Let's go rescue our sprouts.”

“Put your hand on my arm.”, Caithe gestured and Faolain did as she was bid, untangling her fingers from Caithe's and placing them atop her arm.

“But if your way fails, we do it my way.”, Faolain warned.

“Stay close.”, Caithe said in answer and there was the rush of wind, the bizarre pulling of his body as he lunged upward, no, as he was _launched_ , and Tivon realized that Caithe was _shadow-stepping_ into the Inquest facility, infiltrating it with _ease_.

It was no wonder Caithe's speciality was stealth. This was... _terrifying_ . Atop the stairs toward the entrance into the building Caithe stopped and stealthed herself. It felt like being coated by a layer of cold water, and even as the Inquest passed by, she remained invisible to their eyes. She worked on the panel on the door and opened it with a few quick movements of her fingers, tearing and playing with the wires as though she was braiding flowers into a crown. 

When the door opened the Inquest startled and began to move, but Caithe passed by them into the lab, Faolain cloaked in shadow right behind her. Tivon felt a thrill running up his body and spine, but whenever he thought an Inquest must notice them for sure, Caithe manoeuvred through the compound as if she had been born in it.

They reached a large translucent window that let them gaze upon a lab below, and Tivon could see a large room with a cage standing in the very middle, holding various sylvari prisoner. Golems stood at each side of the rectangular prison, a strange, blue stream emitting from them as they...

_drained_ the prisoners trapped inside.

Tivon grew cold and if it had been his fingers, they would have stilled and felt calm, but Caithe's fingers were controlled, steady and calm. “What do you suppose they're doing to them?”, Faolain asked as she stepped closer toward the window.

“Bad things.”, Caithe answered. “Let me see if I can figure out this console.”

“There's...no. Do you see?”, Faolain asked, her voice taking on a shrill edge, her long, lithe fingers scrapping against the glass. “Bodies, everywhere... What's taking you so long?”, the last part was almost snapped at Caithe, and Tivon could feel her body reacting to the urgency in her lovers voice.

“Almost got it.”, she replied curtly.

“They're killing them!”, Faolain cried and Tivon shivered. By the Pale Tree, he'd never thought to experience this, and being here, unable to do anything but relive the events...it was maddening. “We have to go now!”

“Thorns!”, Caithe cursed and smacked her hand against the console. “I can't open it from here. There are two more panels that control this door.”

“I'm going to kill every last one of these monsters!”, Faolain promised darkly, but Caithe held her back with her pale fingers curling around Faolain's dark arm.

“We can't go charging in. Our best bet is to sneak in and take them by surprise.”, Caithe urged, and Faolain's glare was full of wrath that Tivon flinched.

“Alright.”, Faolain hissed.

Caithe stealthed them once again, cloaking them in shadow, and the both of them activated the door panels simultaneously without alerting any of the golems or the Inquest. Tivon heard the confused Inquest engineer muttering to himself – something about the door being repaired the third time this week – as they slipped through.

The laboratory was large. At each side was a platform on which a golem stood, while the cage holding the sylvari prisoners was atop a platform in the middle. Tivon recognized the figure patrolling along the side of the cage and Caithe and Faolain moved toward the asura, only stopping a few feet short of stabbing range.

With a flick of Caithe's arm they appeared from stealth, and Vorpp – who was apparently the one who ran the whole facility – startled from where he had been expecting a golem from the distance. He nearly jumped as the two sylvari appeared in front of him and squealed.

“Let our people go, or we will destroy this entire place.”, Caithe warned and drew her dagger from its sheath at her waist in a fast and fluid motion, lifting it into the air for Vorpp to inspect.

“What is this?”, Vorpp cried, and the Inquest around them suddenly rose into action. “Who let this creature out of its cage? Someone's fired!”

“You monster.”, Faolain seethed and stepped closer, forcing Vorpp another step back. “You're dead.”

“Oh! Security! Security!”, Vorpp cried and suddenly he was enveloped in a shield of electricity that buzzed and he charged away to the other side toward safety, while Inquest appeared all around them and the alarm rang shrilly over their heads.

“I'll take care of them.”, Faolain nodded toward the approaching Inquest. “Go stealthily and neutralize their leader.”

Caithe nodded and lunged to the side and disappeared into stealth once again, disappearing from sight. The Inquest startled and gasped, staring at where she had disappeared, but she moved nimbly through their lines and behind them toward where Vorpp stood anxiously, watching from a distance. His hands were folded in front of him, thumps nervously circling.

Caithe smiled to herself, walked around him, lifted her dagger -

and when it cascaded down in an arc, it met resistance and she was blasted away, losing her cloak in the process. The force sent her against the column of the prison and she gasped when her back met the stone and her body fell to the floor and Vorpp's laughter echoed loudly in her ears.

“Oh! Almost had me there. Good thing my defense shielding is active.”

Caithe glared up at Vorpp as he enveloped himself in an electrical shield and flashed away once again, but she did not lose any time to push herself to her feet. Faolain was fighting one of the golems that was draining energy from the cage and smiled triumphantly when the golem finally fell apart, parts smashing against the floor. “Yes, one down.”, Faolain smirked and turned her head, but her smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Another golem charged to life on the other side and began to pull the energy from the cage, no, not the cage, Tivon suddenly realized. From the sylvari trapped inside. One of them, a male sylvari that was naked much like the rest whispered “Why...”, before he fell to his knees and then face first onto the ground without moving.

“No!”, a familiar voice cried, and Tivon whirled his head and noticed Canach, at least the Canach before all of Southsun Cove. He looked younger, innocent, the green of his skin bright and the leaves atop his head a striking yellow. “Cease your attacks! I feel a strong energetic connection between us and those constructs.” Canach had barely finished when a newborn inside the cage began to scream and succumb to his knees, and Canach grasped the newborns arms in an attempt to catch him and was only mildly successful when the newborn withered in agony.

“Oh! You noticed!”, Vorpp said from the other side. “We've learned that your kind's life force does wonders for our golem's power levels!”

“This stops now.”, Faolain said in such a dark, determined tone that it was almost a compulsive order. “These monsters will pay a steep price for their cruelty! Focus on their leader.”

“Hello? Krewe? Some reinforcements would be appreciated.”, Vorpp called and the alarm that still rang through the whole facility borught more Inquest to stream in, the pile of dead that Faolain had left behind apparently no discouragement. “Okay, krewe, your shields will protect you against the creature's attacks. Now find that creature while I maintain the shield generators! It could be anywhere...”

Caithe watched from stealth as Vorpp moved toward one of the generators and moved his hand over a button, and the whole thing suddenly discharged with a sizzle of electricity, overcharging his shield and temporarily leaving him vulnerable.

“Ahh! Who left that generator malfunctioning? I nearly lost my shield!”, Vorpp cried, hastily reapplying it, and Caithe shadowstepped forward and stabbed at Vorpp's back, finding her opening just barely before the shield came to life. Her dagger scrapped over Vorpp's back, opening up a large, gaping wound that drew blood.

Vorpp cried out and fell to his knees, buckling underneath his own weight. As he fell he turned, his eyes glaring up at Caithe who stood above him with her daggers raised. The sound of Inquest dying was nearly distant in Caithe's ears, her lover tearing through them with ease. “C-curse you creatures.”, Vorpp hissed through gritted teeth and spat. “Your victory will be short-lived, I assure you.”

Caithe lunged forward, but too late; Vorpp enveloped himself in a lightning aura and disappeared in a flash of bright light atop a platform far over their heads, and Caithe cursed under her breath, but she did not attempt to pursue Vorpp. Instead she rushed toward the prison and it's console, tapped at it, tore out the connecting wire and noticed with grim satisfaction that the cage powered down and the bars opened.

The sylvari inside stumbled out into the open and Canach was one of the last, giving aid to one of the weaker newborn. The noises grew quiet and only the steps of Faolain announced that the remaining Inquest had been dealt with. “This...this is real life. Pain.”, Faolain murmured.

“Pain, humiliation, and eventually death. For us...and for them.”, Canach's eyes trailed over the many splayed corpses of newborn sylvari that lay dead in the prison. Slowly he lifted his gaze toward where Vorpp stood atop his platform, out of reach. “Did you have to kill them?”

“Me? Oh! It was all in the interest of knowledge gained. You beings are an anomaly. It wasn't personal.”, Vorpp said nonchalantly, as if any of his words made any sense, ever. As if academic interest justified torture and death.

Faolain growled. “I'm going to tear your ears off!”, she spat, but Vorpp did not wait to see if she could reach him or not and made himself scarce. “Don't let it get away!”, Faolain wanted to move forward, but Caithe stopped her.

“Forget that monster.”, she urged, and then continued more softy. “It's time to go home. We have to get the injured back to safety.”

“I don't like being bested.”, Faolain pouted. “I refuse to be anyone's fool—not these horrible creatures', and certainly not Wynne's.”

“Stop obsessing.”, Caithe said strictly. “By now, Wynne is all the way out in the Silverwastes.”, then she added, more softly, “And you're not a fool.”

Faolain seemed almost deaf. “Wynne is guarding an important secret. No one person should control our fate.”

Caithe tried a more soothing route. “My love, you really think she knows something she's not telling us?”

Faolain met her gaze. “I know she does. She said to Mother, "They can never know. It could exert unspeakable power over all sylvari.". I must know what that power is. Once the sprouts are safe, you and I are going out to the Silverwastes to confront her.”

Whatever Caithe answered was lost when the laboratory shifted once again, blurring in front of his eyes, and he was pulled out of Caithe's body, backwards as if from a strong line on his back that pulled him to the surface of water. When he resurfaced in reality he took a deep, gasping breath, taking a moment to orient himself.

“So, tell me everything!”, Jory urged eagerly, kneeling beside him, her hand steadying on his shoulder. “What happened? What did you see?”

“I was Caithe again, this time assaulting the lab.”, Tivon told her and nodded toward the large stone building looming a few feet away.

“Did you fight Inquest?”, Jory asked.

“It wasn't the Inquest.”, Tivon corrected thoughtfully. “It was Vorpp.”

“Vorpp?”, Jory echoed. “The asura who wanted Taimi for a student?”

“Exactly. Now I understand why Taimi chose Zojja over him.”

“That boggles the mind. What else did you see?”

“Faolain was obsessed with Wynne; she thought Wynne had a secret.”, Tivon told her, and Jory nodded slowly.

“What did Caithe think of that?”, she asked.

“She wasn't sure. She didn't overhear Wynne and the Pale Tree talking.”

“Well, isn't this just a complex mystery.”, Jory said, and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “So where are we going next?”

“I think we need to head back to the Silverwastes to find a centaur village.”, Tivon paused for a moment before he added, “And to find the truth.”

  
  


 


	42. The Pact Assaulted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! *shy wave*  
> Okay so I have to apologize for not posting on Wednesday. I forgot. Can you believe it? I was so tired I sunk into bed and didn't realize something was amiss until the next day. I am truly, truly sorry.  
> Aaaand to drop another bomb on you, I'll have to cut back one chapter per week. With my exams coming full force now (Starting Monday. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH) I simply lack the time and concentration to produce chapters as fast as I used to, and in order to keep consistent I'll have to slow down a bit.  
> That means one chapter per week. Unless another state of emergency presents itself in which I find myself lacking any life quality at all, which I highly doubt, but you never know. *shrug*
> 
> This chapter that I am presenting to you today is one of my favorites. Tivon gets to show off and we finally have the pin dropping. If you want to know what the hell I am talking about I suggest scrolling and begin reading. I'll see you at the end :D

It was sheer luck – or bad timing – that the moment they arrived at Camp Resolve they were greeted by Mordrem minions flooding over the whole area. They had heard the sounds of fighting and hurried to aid – only to gaze upon the chaos as it unravelled. It encompassed the whole Camp, leaving no space untouched by either sap or blood.

The Pact was astir, fighting with everything they had. Archers, Footsoldiers, the occasional fireball or lightning strike from a practised mage, and mostly the large forces of the Vigil and Seraph combined. The Mordrem came rushing through the gates leading into the Silverwastes or burrowed form beneath the ground and Tivon could barely make out a few faces he knew until he finally saw Braham, Taimi, Vail and Kota all closed around the shed where Taimi had worked, all of them fighting back the Mordrem hard.

Jory charged forward, having seen the trail of gold and white of Kas's dress glittering through the many soldiers and Pact members, and Tivon didn't dare reach out to stop her when she continued to disappear into the sea of Pact soldiers, armor, shields and weapons. There were shouts all around him echoing and pervading, and a soldier with a drawn sword bumped into him in his hurry, but neither had time for apologies. 

Tivon glanced up at the command Centre where Trahearne stood with his scepter raised into the air, a large, broad minion at his side, Sgileas fighting at the bottom of the stairs, holding off any approaching Mordrem from getting close to the firstborn. “Stations, everyone!”, Trahearne roared over the battle, and multiple other voices chimed in to transmit his command in deligation.

“Engage!”, Zojja cried and he could see the furious blinking of her magitech armor beside Eir and Braham, who both due to their incredible size loomed far over the humans around them.

“Weapons out!”, Braham encouraged and raised his shield into the air, casting a dome around him and Destiny's Edge that glowed a bright blue, shoving off a group of approaching Mordrem and forcing them back with such intensity that they were launched backwards. It left them to adjust their weapons for barely a moment until they were swarmed once again, but they held their ground and Tivon averted his eyes when a bright flash of fireball exploded, jolting through the ground with a palpable tremble.

The Mordrem continuously flooded from the gates in heavy waves even though the Seraph and Pact members stood untied against the Dragon's forces and Tivon attempted to push through the amassing enemies without being hit by sword and branch alike. He ducked beneath a greatsword and heard the crunching of a wood somewhere behind him and raised his staff to smack a Mordrem wolf into its side. It yowled and was stomped by a massive hammer, the noise it had made dying away.

In all the havoc he could barely find a foothold, each meter more crowded than the last and he stopped when he heard a cry echoing over the plaza. “Fall back!”, Logan roared over the camp, and others echoed his command.

“Everyone back! Fall back!”, Zojja bellowed and Tivon saw that Braham's shield held for another moment and then flickered and faltered, both Braham and Eir obstructed by Mordrem Husks that loomed over all, norn, human and sylvari alike.

Tivon tried to push through, gaining only ever so little ground. With each meter he gained, another weapon needed to be avoided and trepidation made his throat tight when his eyes fixed on Braham in the distance. The Mordrem were all around them, pushing them continuously back, taking down one Pact member after the next. Tivon had to watch helplessly when a male human warrior was grasped in a Mordrem husks hand, leaves and coppice pressing in tighter and stronger until the warriors screams faded in with all the other echoes of battle.

Tivon summoned his wisp to assist those that he could, but he simply lacked the energy to encompass them all. His staff held against the attacks of the Mordrem, even when a Wolf bored its teeth into the shaft and Tivon kicked it off. A Thrasher came spinning through the crowd, piercing through all that stood in its way and Tivon raised his arm with a sharp, quick movement, summoning a single, sharp thorn from the ground that rose like a splinter into the Thrashers' head, making it jolt and still momentarily before it collapsed and impaled itself further.

“Defend our north gate!”, a voice cried, but it was faint and faded as soon as he had heard; he turned his head toward the gates and saw that both were being overrun. There was little the Pact Soldiers could do against the flood of minions and the Mordrem pushed further and further in, squeezing them against two fronts.

He lifted his head, searching for Braham in the tangle of bodies and coppice and found him smashing in the head of a Mordrem Thrasher that advanced too far. The coppice and branches went scattering over their heads from the strike, and Tivon saw his one chance.

“Braham!”, he called as loudly as he could, and for a moment it seemed the norn had not heard. Braham erected himself, breathing more harshly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, eyes grim and determined, and Tivon tried again, “BRAHAM!”

That jolted Braham from his reverie and his head whirled, searching through the jumble with his eyes, blue eyes darting over Pact members and warriors when finally he saw Tivon who had lifted his staff to make himself noticeable.

Braham opened his mouth and his eyes darted to somewhere behind Tivon, and Tivon knew before Braham yelled “Watch out!”, that he needed to turn.

Tivon lifted his staff with both hands over his head to block a downward strike from a Mordrem Husk, his arms trembling under the incredible force that was behind it. He grit his teeth and pushed against it, but to no avail. His arms began to buck, slowly flexing under the strain and as a last resort Tivon ducked beneath his staff, turned around and brought it with him as he spun, pouring his nature magic into the very staff itself; the butt formed into a sharp appendix like a spear and Tivon pierced with it behind him, angling it upward, boring it into the Mordrems chest.

The Mordrem made a grunting noise, body and bulk hunched over Tivon who stood with his back toward it, and when Tivon noticed the heavy weight of the Mordrem slowly burdening him he lunged forward and pulled out the thorn-shaped end of his staff and spun on the spot, watching as the Husk crashed down onto the ground in a tangle of branches.

“Rally to me!”, Trahearne ordered with a booming voice and the Pact pushed toward the command Centre in unison, inching closer and closer until they were a dense bulb around it; Sgileas still stood his ground, his expression grim and his bark covered in his dark shroud, purple eyes gleaming dangerously. “Light the signal fire to call in the air strike!”, Trahearne yelled as the Pact crowded in front of the command Centre and Tivon whirled his head around, searching with his eyes over the many elevated platforms and cliffs until his eyes caught sight of the signal flare. 

He was moving long before he'd made the choice. He charged through with precision and quickness, avoiding the attacks around him nimbly with lightning quick reflexes. He raised his staff as he ran with one hand and swung it to his side in a diagonal arc to swat the closest Mordrem Wolf that attempted to lunge at him mid-run, causing it to collide with the tip of his staff, turning it's trajectory and sending it flying toward the ground.

The jolt of the strike rose into his arm and body and from the corner of his eyes he saw a Mordrem Thrasher spinning his way, and he used the impetus of the jolt to turn, raising the staff in an overhead spin and cascading it in a scything motion against the Mordrem Thrasher. Its body bulged around the staff at the force and was pushed back a couple paces that gave Tivon a window of opportunity to speedily advance toward the cliff.

The ground trembled when a Mordrem Husk ran toward him, large, coarse arms lifted above its head and clenched fists ready to descend them down in a powerful strike.

Tivon couldn't break his momentum in time; he somersaulted forward and caught himself on his hands, tumbled over his neck and back and rolled in between the Mordrem Husks' legs. The crash of the Husks' fists against the ground behind him rattled through the ground as his body turned and as soon as his soles touched the ground he rose to his feet and was running once again, losing scarcely any of his velocity.

There was none other left than him. The Mordrem were all around him now, Thrashers and Wolves and Husks, all suddenly intent on stopping him and collapsing on his position and his destination. The Pact were somewhere far behind him; too far away to help, too far away to interfere.

A Mordem wolf charged right at him and he waited until the last moment to vault over it as it lunged, his legs drawn close to his chest to avoid being tangled. The creature missed him by a hairs breath and impacted with a crashing noise and creaking branches somewhere behind him.

His feet had barely touched the ground when he was greeted by a swing of a Husks fist and he leaned his upper body backwards, angling his legs to slither beneath the large arms trajectory. It swished over his head with a soughing noise meeting nothing but air. He angled his staff and ploughed it into the ground, bringing himself upright with a bounce, nearly loosing his footing when his feet tangled on a vine beneath him.

He caught his footing after two steps and felt the soreness of his legs, some parts of his bark scratched open, his elbows burning from attempting to catch his near-fall onto the ground, but he moved with determination and raised his staff once more.

With a swing of his arm he summoned ensnaring vines that grew from the ground, shooting up to entangle everything they could reach to his right, curling around Mordrem Thrashers and Wolves alike. The Mordrem Husks however were too large to be captured in their wake and stomped through, breaking the vines beneath their large legs as if they were nothing but toothpicks, but the vines delayed their approach.

The flare was atop a cliff overseeing the whole of the camp that was just a few more meters away. The steps leading up toward the flare had been destroyed, a Mordrem Husk having smashed them into tiny pebbles that now lay in a pile of rocks at the base. There was no way up but to climb – with all the Mordrem lurking right at the base.

A wolf jumped from Tivons left toward him and he turned away gracefully, the wolf missing him by mere inches, claws and teeth meeting empty air. Vines sprouted to grasp him where he made his next step and Tivon tensed his entire body, gripped his staff tightly and leaned forward, bringing his legs into the air in a butterfly kick motion. The vines breaking from the earth grasped uselessly up into thin air, not reaching far enough to reach his legs, and he landed behind them with a tap of his feet. He used the momentum to bring his staff in a scything motion around him, a Mordrem Thrashers bending and breaking at the force with a crunching noise.

Tivon didn't wait to see if his attack had been actually effective or not. He pulled the staff over his head, his fingers curling tightly around the shaft and he let the butt of the staff hit the earth in a downward motion. The ground fractured on impact, the cracks shooting out like lightning strikes and spreading to the side. From below came vines that curled and knotted around one another in quick twists and turns, sharp tips piercing forward like harpoons into the cliff just ahead like steadying beams.

Tivon jumped atop them, feet balancing atop the vines easily and dashed up toward the cliff and jumped up high, reaching for a small crevice in the stone far over his head. The fingers of his free had found purchase and he held on, his feet scrapping against the side of the cliff to search for anything to hold on to, and the cliff trembled beneath his fingers when a Mordrem Husk beneath him attempted to grasp and squish his legs and struck the cliffside instead.

Tivon grit his teeth and with a wide range of motion he threw his staff over to the side where it flew through the air and clattered somewhere, hitting a Mordrem Thrasher in the head. Not that Tivon had aimed for that, but he'd take it.

With his other hand free he found purchase and flexed his arms, pulling himself up in the process. He climbed higher, his fingers clinging to the rock for dear life and pulled his legs in and closer, heaving them out of the Mordrem Husks reach. He cast one last glance below, his breath coming in harsh, staccato breaths. The Mordrem came all rushing toward him, crowding down beneath him, tangles of vines, branches and coppice hurdled together in a clutter of brown, black and beige.

They attempted to reach for him even though he was climbing higher and higher strenuously. The vines threw gunk in his direction and missed him by mere inches, splattering it against the wall and forcing him to avert his head to shield his eyes. When the volley ceased Tivon dared to move again, the gunk making the stone slippery and even harder to climb. The cliff bulged outward, leaving him to climb the overhang with only his arms, his legs failing to hold on to the slippery and flat surface of the cliff, dangling uselessly beneath him as extra weight his arms needed to carry.

His arm trembled with each movement, water forming on his forehead and streaming over his eyebrow, the sun glaring down at him from the side mercilessly. Whenever he needed to reposition his other arm and supported his entire body weight by only the strength of his hand and fingers his whole body trembled at the effort and he bit his lip hard enough to taste bitter-sweet sap.

If he'd fall the Mordrem would collapse on him and prey on him sooner than he'd be able to find his footing again. He needed to get this done, he needed -

His hand slipped when he grasped into a trial of gunk and he cried out in surprise, hanging on by his one hand alone, the jerk of his body as it was suddenly pulled down by gravity jolting through him. His arm that held on trembled as he brushed his covered hand along the leaves of his armour exigently before he craned his neck and searched with his eyes for an advance, a crevice, _anything to hold on to_ when two things transpired at once: The stone trembled with shuddering intensity and his fingers began to slip. At first the small finger, then further and further toward the edge -

Tivon made a frustrated noise, both a growl and cry, his eyes focussing on a small jut above his head. He could not see if it would offer good purchase or not, but it was his chance, his _sole_ chance. With a slow movement he swung sideways, pulled back and then brought all the strength of his arm to pull him up further, his other hand reaching for the jut over his head and his fingers gripped into a small crevice, finding space to flex around and to hold on, his legs swinging underneath him at the motion and slowly oscillating into equilibrium.

His arms were burning. His fingers felt numb, sore, _torn_ from the exertion, but Tivon was adamant and held on, ignoring the low, thrumming pain in his fingertips, the searing pulse that went through his whole arm like a river of acid. Each pull of his arm brought him closer, bit by bit, ever so slowly, and the taste of sap filled his mouth once again when he bit his lip. His hand reached up toward the ledge, shacking to simply make the last pull, and when he laid it flat against the surface and finally brought his leg over the side he let out a huffing breath, panting heavily.

With his last bit of strength he rose to his feet and stumbled toward the flare, fingers grasping the torch set beside it as it burned with a similar heat as the sun, and lifted it toward the flare. He staggered back and let himself drop to his feet, examining his hands that still would not refuse to shake. The bark was slightly torn in certain places, mainly his fingertips and the palm of his hand, and with a hiss of breath he closed his eyes and poured healing magic into his tattered limps. The relief was instantaneous – but the palliation of his pain was nothing against the elation when the air ship finally arrived.

They came swooping in from the skies, surrounded the camp from all sides. When the shots fired and the missiles flew into the area below they shattered the ground and rippled through the air, cascading down in volleys of thunder and explosive rain upon the Mordrem. Splinters of coppice and dust rose into the air, settling for a bare moment before finally the cheer of the Pact broke through.

They had won.

_By the Pale Tree,_ they had won.

Despite his exhaustion Tivon forced himself to stand, heaving him up onto his feet with help of his arms, which at this point barely managed to hold on to anything. He approached the edge of the cliff with care and stared down below, relishing the soft breeze that brushed over his ferns and skin.

The ground was covered in the Mordrem remains, branches, coppice and twigs like compost, ashen and grey mixed into piles of fibre. Smoke rose from parts of the Camp and Tivon blinked up against the sky to see that the airships were slowly taking position over the Camp, ceasing their fire now that no enemy remained standing. Those few Mordrem that survived the onslaught were brought down by the remaining Pact – and small group separated from the great mass, raising their arms into the air with avid cheer and rushed toward the base of the cliff when they saw him standing.

They were cheering.

They were cheering  _because of him_ .

Tivon's mind drew a blank. All he could do was stare below where the Pact roared and applauded his accomplishment, feeling...light. Light and Elated. When he drew the next breath it was deeper, raising his chest more highly into the air, and finally his eyes caught faces and figures he recognizes.

Braham loomed over all the other in the Pact, his broad shoulders pushing through the crowd, Kas beside him in a glorious and beautiful attire that Tivon would have thought unsuitable for battle such as this. Jory and Rox followed behind them, and Taimi in her golem Scruffy was the rear-guard, in a sense.

Tivon inched closer to the edge and slowly sat on the ground and let his feet dangle in the air freely, peering down at the amassing people below. He felt...exhilarated. And exhausted.

“Come down!”, Braham roared over all the others, and in the echo of his loud, booming voice everyone seemed to grow quiet in anticipation. Tivon blinked over to where the stairs had been once, but there only remained shattered rock and a certain slide to a few broken limps that he did not want to risk. With the thrill of expectancy pumping through him he doubted he could climb down while everyone watched, but...he was not really left with a choice, was he?

With a nervous feeling that settled like a stone in his chest he turned around, his hands slowly gliding over the even surface of the cliff until his fingers curled around the edge, his legs finding very little purchase. Slowly he reached down, hands aching and arms protesting, but he took deep, dragging breaths and focussed on the _task_ and not the _thought._

His arm was steady when the overhang began below him, his legs swinging beneath him before stilling. Ever so slowly he reached for the next advance, the next crevice, until he could no longer ignore the shacking of his arms. They trembled to such an extend his deltoid felt like it was under a constant electric current and his neck strained to adjust to the inbalance. For a moment he wondered how much he would break if he fell when Braham startled him from below,

“Jump!”

Tivon, with both his arms gripping a small crevice over his head, his legs dangling beneath him in a few feet of empty air, stared disbelievingly down at Braham who was, all things considered (aka. His height), still a considerable fall away.

Braham met his gaze evenly and unflinching. “Come on!”

_By the Pale Tree,_ Braham was  _serious._

“That's-”, Tivon began and adjusted his grip, his fingers throbbing painfully. “That's a terrible idea!”, he called back. Pale Mother, it really, _really_ was.

“Just distract him till he has no more grip strength.”, Taimi chirped, not realizing that her voice carried through Scruffys speakers, startling out laughter from nearby Pact members.

Tivon would have rolled his eyes were he not busy glancing down, assessing. Braham stood right beneath him, separated only by a large gap of air. Well. 'Only'.

There was a weak voice protesting in his head that he could break a leg, or possibly two if Braham did not catch him, but truly...even if Taimi and Braham had not interjected in his climbing, he wasn't sure if he'd make it down. The larger portion of his head was somewhat calm and content, trusting Braham to catch him rather than to make the climb down. “Alright.”, Tivon relented and met Braham's eyes uncertainly. “Ready?”

Braham nodded, barely hiding his grin, and settled for a enthusiastic and encouraging smile. “Ready.” The norn raised his arms and opened them wide in a welcoming gesture.

This was a  _terrible_ idea.

Tivon let go with one hand, oscillating unsteadily from one side to the other before his body stilled. He glanced down, throat tight, but the look in Braham's eyes...

_Trust me._

Tivon let go. Reflexively he closed his eyes at the falling motion, his stomach flipping when it bottomed out and his body screamed at him, every fibre suddenly alight and on fire with energy, his throat too tight to scream when his body came to a very sudden stop and an  _ooof_ escaped him as the impact jolted through him.

Braham's laughter and the booming cheer of the crowd nearly blew out his eardrums. Braham had his arms steadily wrapped around his hip, pressing Tivon's pelvis and legs against his stomach and chest, while Tivon's torso was high up in the air and his arms free to move. Braham craned his neck upward toward him with the most foolish and _joyful_ grins Tivon had ever seen, and Tivon couldn't help but laugh in return when the anticipation faltered into relief and his hands lowered onto Braham's shoulders unconsciously.

He glanced around and saw the Pact and its members surrounding them, cheering and applauding, and Tivon felt a new high to the exhilaration he had felt before. Braham held him up still, hoisting him so tall as if he were sitting in the low branches of a tree, and Tivon could oversee all those around them.

To see all the happy faces, all those cheering for him...A sense of pride blossomed in his chest, and Tivon smiled broadly. Some even approached them, clasping and clapping onto Braham's back because Tivon was out of reach, the laughter and cheer of the victory they had just down against Mordremoth sinking in fully.

They had won. They had won this fight against Mordremoth.

Tivon looked back down with smile and met Braham's crystal blue eyes. For a moment the gaze held and Braham's grin turned into an earnest smile and his stomach gave a strange flutter that spread in a warm wave into his fingertips. One more second passed before Braham adjusted his grip and let him down gingerly onto steady ground and Tivon accredited the flutter to the high and the euphoria that washed through him in a positive thrum.

“That was the most stupid thing I ever agreed to.”, Tivon almost had to yell over the crowd and tried to ignore the many hands that clasped onto his back and shoulder in congratulation and camaraderie. Kas flew toward him with tears of laughter in her eyes and hugged him tightly. He could feel Kota snuggling close to his leg and Vail crowing over his head in accusation. _Idiot_ , the raven seemed to say.

“Ah, I had the calculations down.”, Taimi grinned. “Chances of your death were negligible. Besides, you can heal broken limps, right?”

“Is that a question, or part of your equation?”, Jory teased and Taimi grinned at the Necromancer.

“It'll be. For future purposes.”

Rox was grinning broadly. “Scrap, that was amazing. I'm glad to see you in one piece.”

“Yeah, me too.”, Tivon smiled and glanced up at Braham. “Thanks for catching me.”

Braham just shrugged. “It was Taimi's idea.”

“Was not!”, Taimi protested, and the fact that she had protested quite so quickly _and_ vehemently made Tivon wonder if that was true. The Pact soldier parted slightly, giving view of Trahearne and Sgileas who both approached. The firstborn smiled at the group, his gaze lingering on Tivon. 

“Once again, you've proven yourself invaluable.”, the firstborn praised, and Tivon felt the heat rise into his cheeks. “This battle could have gone very differently. Our launch window is rapidly closing. Had we lost today, I fear the war would have ended before it began.”

“The Pact pulled it off.”, Tivon said blandly, lacking any words to express his gratitude.

“You were a big part of that. You were the only one able to get to the signal fire. Without you, well...”, Trahearne looked up at the signal flare and then down toward Tivon once again. “Thank you.”

“It...it was nothing.”, Tivon blabbered out.

“Come.”, Trahearne gestured. “There a few things that need to be discussed.”

Tivon and his friends followed Sgileas and Trahearne toward the Command centre, and Sgileas slowed to walk beside him. “Trahearne's praise is warranted.”, Sgileas said and Tivon looked up at him. They were almost the same height, Tivon still slightly smaller. “You did well.”

Trahearne's praise was already high quarters. Sgileas'? It was like another world.

“Thank you.”, Tivon brought out.

The ascend to the command centre was filled with talk about the battle, and only when they gathered around the table did all of them quiet down. Tivon stared down at the map and noticed that there were many new additions, points and flags he did not remember seeing before.

“So we've decided to launch now.”, Sgileas began.

“This is our moment to strike—before the dragon is fully awake and before its minions can swarm this staging area. We'll launch our ships as soon as we're ready.”, Trahearne continued, suddenly the Pact Marshal once again. Stern. Vigilant. Dutiful.

“We...are still searching.”, Tivon said slowly and gazed around the group uncertainly. If any of them wanted to join the Pact, now was their chance, and his gaze lingered on Jory for a moment. “I won't keep any of you here. If you wish to fight Mordremoth...”, Tivon trailed off and let it sink in.

They all had reasons for fighting the Elder Dragon directly, some more strong, others less. Jory had the most vicious and powerful drive of them call. Kas would follow her for sure.

Braham might even go to join the fight against the Elder Dragon to be with his mother – whom he seemed to have been getting along with prior to Tivon's arrival.

Rox would most likely be torn with staying with Tivon or following Braham and Taimi might find an appeal to be with her mentor and try out the new equipment she had implemented into Scruffy.

“I'm staying.”, Braham said and folded his arms in front of his chest. Rox nodded slowly, agreeing with him.

“I've told you.”, Jory murmured. “I'm with you.”

Tivon nodded, throat tight, and his gaze wandered toward Taimi. She was looking at something inside Scruffy and slowly turned her head at the silence. “Oh, sorry. What are we voting on?”

“So, this means you're definitely not coming with us?”, Trahearne said, eyes meeting Tivon's steadily. It felt like he was making a decision for all his friends, not just himself, and somehow he wondered if there was a thing as taking the wrong path.

“I,” Tivon began, but then corrected himself. “ _We_ have a mission we need to finish first.”

Trahearne nodded. “I understand. The egg. You're right to make it your priority.”

That was said with more confidence than Tivon felt. “Be safe.”, Tivon said earnestly. “The Pale Mother guide you to victory.”

Sgileas stepped forward and reached out his hand, much to Tivon's surprise, and Tivon took it. The hand enclosed around his own, firm and cool. Under the pressure of Sgileas knowing and cold glare, the purple glow of his eyes and the stern expression, Tivon found the noises around him fading. “Remember what you are.”, Sgileas said, and at first Tivon did not understand, but then he realized that Sgileas meant to give him strength for the oncoming battle with Mordremoth – a battle that would clearly be fought in his mind.

“That which we are can not hurt us.”, Tivon repeated solemnly, and Sgileas smiled, but other than that showed no signs that he recognized it.

“We will share drink and stories when we meet again.”, Sgileas promised and let go, and Tivon didn't stop him. All he could do was nod and feel... _unprepared_. He knew his task, and yet its completion was such a long and far route away from everyone else.

When he turned away and left the Command Centre behind, something heavy settled itself atop his shoulders and inside his chest, pressing down on him as if a large fist attempted clenched around him.

“So, where are we going?”, Rox asked.

“Into the Silverwastes.”, Tivon explained and rummaged through his belt pouch before he produced the memory seeds to show them. “The Pale Tree gave me memory seeds that allow me to see into Caithe's memory. She and Faolain were chasing a firstborn named Wynne who was hiding something from all sylvari and Faolain was obsessed and chased her into the Silverwastes. We're about to uncover what it is – and perhaps where Caithe has gone with the egg.”

“Alright. So how do they work?”, Rox asked as they began to move. There was the thump of Scruffy, the rustling of Rox's leather tunic and the chime of her charms, the swagger of Brahams movements Tivon only saw from the corner of his eyes and Kas and Jory who walked beside one another.

“They react strongly when we reach a location where a memory of Caithe prevails. It is only due to the connection of Dream this is possible, but I do not know exactly how it works.”

“Fascinating.”, Taimi murmured. “I'm recording. That's OK, right?”

Tivon shrugged. “They work on no other than sylvari, unfortunately.”

“Oh bummer.”, Taimi made disappointed and Jory chuckled.

“I had the same reaction.”

They made their way toward the gates and Tivon glanced back over his shoulder and noticed that Sgileas was watching them depart. The Necromancer had his forearms angled in front of him, resting them on the metal railing, purple eyes following them intently.

“Braham.”, a voice called and they all halted. Just before the gates Eir came striding from the shadows, Garm at her side. Kota made a happy chirping noise and rushed forward, crashing into Garm's leg. The wolf barely seemed to mind.

“We'll wait.”, Tivon offered softly and Braham gave him a short glance and a nod. Braham looked nonchalant to most, but Tivon recognized the tense pull of the norn's shoulders, showing part of the norn's anxiety. Braham stalked over to where his mother waited, and Tivon could see her smile. Despite his best efforts not to listen in, parts of the conversation drifted toward his ears.

“So, you're going on your own hunt?”, Eir asked with a smile.

Braham nodded. “We will search for Caithe and retrieve the egg.” There was a short awkward pause in which Braham contemplated his next words before he took a deep breath and began, “Seeing you with them...with Destiny's Edge... It's opened my eyes. For the first time, I understand what it means to be a legend larger than your own life. I see it before me. In you.”

Eir looked infinitely sad. “But I could have been a mother.”, she murmured.

“At least, now I see why you left us. I see what Father saw when he agreed to let you go.”, Braham told her and Tivon barely heard when Kas asked Jory what Braham and Eir could be talking about, nor did he listen when Jory answered her.

“I wish you knew how hard it was for me to leave you, to say good-bye to you...and your father. And how many times I wanted to go back to you...”, she took a deep breath. “I couldn't bear to have you look at me as if I were a stranger, to see you wondering who I was.”

“I don't want us to be strangers.”, Braham said firmly,

Eir smiled. “I'm glad. When I get back, let's go on a hunt in the Shiverpeaks together.”

Braham smiled back broadly. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

By the Pale Tree, their family...after being torn apart because the world needed Eir, they could finally come back together.

Eir nodded toward Tivon and she noticed that he was staring and gave him a knowing smile. “They are waiting for you.”

“May the Wolf guide you.”, Braham told her and Eir nodded.

“You too, son.”

Braham stomped back toward them and before Kas could ask the norn about what had been said, Tivon asked carefully, “So...you and your mother seem to making strides, hmm?”

Braham still wore the soft smile. “Yeah, it's good. I guess I finally figured out why she left. She's one of the most legendary norn in Tyria, and she just happened to be my mother. I'm lucky to get a chance to know her.”

Tivon raised his hand and rested it atop Braham's upper arm, wondering why it felt like a natural thing to do. “You're getting wise in your old age. I'm happy for you both.”

Braham held his gaze for a moment before he nodded. “Thanks. Now let's go find ourselves an egg, yeah?”

Tivon chuckled and retracted his hand. “Follow me.”

As natural as the water carving smoothly and gently through stone, they did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla! Told you I'd be here.  
> So, did you like it? Did you feel the feels? Can you smell the tragedy and the drama in the air as I can? It's almost pungent now, haha. Oh Derwen, you can't come soon enough to ruffle through this and make a mess of things.  
> Oh, and by way of an apology, I'll post another chapter this Sunday, and from then on it will be every Sunday. I'll try to get the "The Moth and the Flame Chapters" up as well (I am far from done, those two feel like magnets with same poles right now more than anything, haha), so worry not, my friends! You will have something to read <3  
> Much love and all the best!


	43. No Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! There were so many comments here and new faces that I had to greet and I spend about an hour responding to comments, and believe me when I say I don't mind. Quite the contrary in fact: I'm absolutely hyped! Thank you guys so much for all your encouragement, and I'll be sure to blow up on my exam on Monday! Hell yeah! *insert explosive rock punch*  
> So, I've kept you waiting long enough, haven't I? Let's dive in and see what the seed shows Tivon this time and how he's going to feel about it. :3  
> Enjoy!

“It's close.”, Tivon murmured, his eyes surveying the canyons in the far distance that seemed to clench upon one another, granting a little shade from the sweltering heat of the sun. The sand was hot beneath his soles and he barely endured standing still for a couple of seconds, but only scarcely because the ground felt like burning coals.

It was his calling. Driving him, pulling him in like a leash wound tightly around his neck, barely allowing him space to breathe. He felt every breath not taken while on the task was wasted, and now that he knew what the compulsion of his calling truly was, everything else that had so far lead him – a purpose, intuition or reason – it seemed insignificant in comparison.

“All of Caithe's relived memories seem to take a toll on you.”, Jory noticed, but her eyes were cast somewhere to the far silverwastes, not looking at him.

“There is something unnerving, knowing that Faolain was chasing down Wynne simply for some secret she allegedly heard and obsessed about.”, Tivon murmured as he climbed over a small thorned bush that was all dried and gnarled, not having seen rain in most likely months. He'd love to feel soothing rain once again. “I know that Wynne is dead, but her aggressor is shrouded from the collective consciousness, and I dread to see what Faolain did to her.”

“You think Caithe would have stood idly by?”, the necromancer gleaned and Tivon tried to imagine it; Caithe standing tenuously with perpetual malaise as Faolain perpetrated the unspeakable – a horror that would inevitably lead her down the darkest paths of them all, and that...that _couldn't_ be the truth. He knew very little of Caithe except that she was a firstborn and deft in the art of stealth and subterfuge. She was not subservient, not to anybody except perhaps the Pale Tree and that was the sole consolation Tivon had to reassure himself Caithe was not their adversary. 

“...It is hard to say.”, he reluctantly settled for. “I have misjudged her once.”

“It is not your fault.”, Rox was the first to say, but Tivon knew it was not the truth.

“If I had been more careful and questioned her volition, perhaps we would be in no such mess. I let her follow without question simply because I trusted that she was firstborn and a strong companion on whom I could count in such times as this.”, Tivon sighed and shook his head. “Mordremoth is in our heads; I should know by now not to be quite so trusting and careless.”

“Did the Pale Tree say anything about her?”, Rox inquired, Frostbite chittering at the rear together with Kota and Vail.

“She was surprised to hear of Caithe taking possession of the egg, but she did not seem to be under the impression Caithe had harmful intentions. She assured me that it is my calling and that it is I who needs to take care of it.”

_I am the Keeper,_ his own voice, distorted and dark with malice echoed in the back of his head. Was that to be an allusion to him bringing the egg to Mordremoth? A Keeper of what could be an enemy to the Elder Dragon? Why did Mordremoth fear it so?

Whyever it was – it was only with more determination that Tivon waded forward, calves burning when a steep rise began. The pulse of the seed in his hand had been nothing but a faint flutter of a butterflies wing against his palm, but now it felt like the contractions of a heart, steady and rhythmic and growing almost frantic with each step.

The canyon reached high over their heads, a cool and cold wall of stone that was grey and brown from sand and dust that whirled with every small breeze of the scarce wind. Other than their steps there was no sound and it was almost unnerving to stand here in the silence, were it not for the reassuring presence of his friends.

“It's here.”, he murmured and knelt down to plan the seed.

“What should we do?”, Rox asked. “While you are in the vision, I mean.”

“He'll fall into a trance.”, Jory explained for him, but he lifted his gaze to follow the interaction. His gut constricted in indisposition, unease settling over him like a heavy veil.

“And then?”, Rox continued to ask and Jory just shrugged her shoulders, the dark dress of hers curling tightly around her form. It was impossible to tell how she stood the heat – and how she managed not to cook in her garments.

“He'll just wake up again. It's nothing spectacular, believe me.”

Rox took her bow from her shoulders as a precautionary measure. “Alright. We'll watch your back, Tiv.”

He nodded, throat tight. He wished his friends could go with him, that he did not have to do this alone, but he had no choice.

_The egg,_ a voice called.

He dug a small hole into the parched earth, nails scrapping away stone and hardened and withered roots before he planted the seed into the ground. He thought of Caithe and closed his eyes and even though he could not see, his body felt as if he was spinning and then, ever so slowly, he settled into a position and the somersaulting of his stomach came to a halt, leaving only nausea and trepidation behind.

Well,  _only_ .

Tivon blinked in confusion. This looked very little like the place he'd been in just moments ago, the sole similarity being the surrounding canyons. At the base of them were tents the colour of beige lines up, sheltering the centaur from the glare of the sun.

He turned when he heard footsteps and noticed that his body reacted without his consent – he wasn't in control. This was a memory,  _Caithe's_ memory, and she stared at Faolain who trudged toward her with a victorious and yet foreboding smile. Behind her were other sylvari who lapped up after her like dogs on a leash. “I hope you don't mind that I invited some friends in case we need backup here.”

_Backup?_ , Tivon wondered.  _Whatever for? Caithe, why are you not asking?_

“We have her now. That centaur encampment up ahead must be where Wynne is hiding.”, Faolain pointed with her dark chin toward where the centaurs sat homely in their tents, clearly undisturbed by the intruders and by-passers that were the sylvari.

“How are you so sure she'll share her secret?”, Caithe asked and fell in step beside Faolain, her armour rustling softly. It was unnerving that the daggers at her hips nudged at the side of his legs with each step, reminding him of the dagger's presence.

“I'm confident that the two of us can persuade her.”, Faolain smiled, and finally Caithe turned her gaze over her shoulder as she walked, mustering the many sylvari behind them before she turned her gaze incredulously back toward Faolain.

“Then why have you involved others in this?”, she asked.

“Our new friends are just here in case these creatures become hostile.”, Faolain threw the centaurs a contemptuous glare. “You won't even know they're here unless we need them.”

“I see.”, Caithe murmured as if that did not leave any questions left unanswered. “Let's get this over with.”

“Why don't you do the talking with these creatures up ahead? You have a better way with strangers.”, Faolain coaxed and gave Caithe a smile.

_Pale Tree give me strength,_ Tivon thought as he stepped forward as Caithe toward a Centaur.

“Welcome to Outer Refuge. What can I do for you this day?”, the Centaur asked blandly, looking solemn and kind. Centaurs were creatures that were half human, half horse. They had four legs with hooves and a long tail swishing behind them and a human torso to match.

“We're looking for another of our people. Her name is Wynne. “, Caithe answered, voice even.

“Yes, it has been our great privilege to have Wynne as our guest. She and our scout Nekhii have already become close friends.”, the Centaur claimed, and the smile on his face did not lie.

“And where might I find your scout?”, Caithe gleaned.

“Nekhii was near the centre of our refuge, when last I saw her.”, the Centaur answered and Caithe gave him an inclination of her head as thanks and goodbye.

“Thank you. You've been very helpful.”

Each step took them deeper into the refuge, the Centaurs pausing to glance over the sylvari that entered their turf. “Look! They are like Wynne, like the ones nurtured by Ventari's words.”, a Centaur at the side said, and another came peeking through the flap of a tent, pulling it back gingerly to have a look.

“It must mean something, to have the people of the Pale Tree among us now.”, the Centaur murmured, voice filled with awe and wonder. The reverie in their voices was almost soothing, were it not for Faolains constant dark presence at his side. She was a stark contrast to Caithe, dark where she was light, loud and insufferable where Caithe was quiet and calm.

“How could Wynne live among these animals?”, Faolain asked, her gaze not having softened the slightest. Disgust distorted her features into a scathing grimace, and the Centaurs at the side heard her.

“She mocks us as simple beasts.”, the first one murmured, voice filled with less wonder and more quiet acceptance.

“They are not what they seemed.”, the second answered evenly, sounding gravely disappointed. When the Centaur turned away he finished, “Not so much like Wynne after all.”

Even after arriving at the centre of the refuge there was no sight of said Centaur nor Wynne, and Faolain's patience was wearing as thin as a sharpened, poisoned blade. “I'm tired of chasing after Wynne, and I don't trust these animals she's been hiding amongst.”, she snarled, turning toward Caithe again fully. She cared little that her voice was loud enough for the Centaurs to catch every words she said. “What if she saw us coming and asked them to delay us?”

“Don't worry.”, Caithe attempted to soothe, but she might as well have tried to stop a churning lightning storm with her bare hands. “If she ran off again, I'm sure we can recover her trail.”

The Scout appeared from the shadow of a canyon and Faolain nearly bolted forward, but Caithe held her back with a soft grip on her wrist. Faolain obliged, if reluctantly, and let Caithe take the lead. “You are like our friend Wynne. Are you from the Grove we have heard so much about?”, Nekhii asked, eyes curiously mustering them all.

“That's right, and we've come a long way to speak with her. Where is she?”, Caithe asked, voice level, patient and kind.

“I cannot say for sure where she is just now, but she should return to break bread with us later.”, Nekhii answered, and even though there was no lie in any of the centaurs features, even though the eyes did not twitch and the body did not adjust uncomfortably, Faolain spoke up.

“How do we know they aren't lying to us? Let's just track her down.” Faolain whirled around in dark fury that was almost chocking the very air around her and Caithe cast the dumb-founded and startled Nekhii a glance, but did not attempt to remedy Faolain's words.

Before Caithe could catch up with Faolain Wynne appeared in the distance wearing a white, blossomed dress that covered her torso and legs and moved softly with each swing of her hips. She had a round face and large, kind eyes that sparkled with curiosity and energy, but when she saw Faolain she almost came to a stand-still, fear hushing over her features.

“Well, look who's here at last.” Faolain sneered as if Wynne had come late to an important meeting they had all consensually agreed to. 

“Ah. Wynne.”, Nekhii smiled at her. “Look, you have visitors.”

“Caithe. Faolain.”, Wynne greeted and smiled, but it was forced. “My friends here had ancestors who knew Ventari. They're almost like cousins!”

Faolain laughed almost hysterically. “I'm no kin to animals, and I'm tired of Ventari's nonsense. You need to come with us _now_.” The last she said like a demand, her voice dropping into a sharp hiss.

“No, Faolain. I go where I please, and just now it pleases me to stay among friends.”, Wynne answered evenly, her features turning cold and stoic. Tivon admired her for the strength to resist and stand against Faolain.

“You've already dragged us halfway across Tyria to collect you, dear.”, Faolain said, voice low and threatening.

“Wynne, you may remain with us as long as you wish. As our guest, you are entitled to our protection.”, Nekhii interjected, stepping closer toward Wynne in a defensive and protective gesture, and Wynne glanced up at the Centaur gratefully.

“This is no concern of yours, my friend. Wynne is our sister.”, Faolain snapped, but the Centaur ignored her, eyes boring into Caithe instead.

“Caithe, I would have words with you. Now.”

By the Pale Tree, that tone almost made Tivon freeze all over despite the glare of the sun baring down on his - _Caithe's,_ he corrected himself – bark. 

“By all means, have words, Caithe. Just make our point clear.”, Faolain said sharply.”I have had just about enough of these beasts and their filthy paddock. I need some air.”

Caithe gave her one last glance before she followed the Centaur into a small tent that shielded them from view, but despite that Tivon did not feel safe at all. A heavy laden and agitated aura filled the air, bristling and sizzling to such an extend that the leaves on Caithe's arms stirred.

“We established this refuge to put some distance between our tribe and its violent past, but we will defend ourselves if we must.”, Nekhii warned, but it was soft and collected.

“No need for that, but you must know we've come a long way for Wynne.”, Caithe said calmly, attempting to appease the Centaur.

“She is not property of yours to collect, and if you have no need for violence, why have you brought soldiers to the wastes?”, the Centaur asked with a frown, arms folded in front of a large, covered chest.

“A precaution only. These lands are hostile and unfamiliar to us.”, Caithe answered evasively.

“It is you who are the hostile strangers here. We can't abide such tensions in this refuge.”, Nekhii reprimanded her and Caithe frowned.

“Is that a threat?”, she asked, voice sharper now, but the sound of a cry from outside made her turn her head. “Wait, what's going on?”

The Centaur moved, and arm pushing in Caithe's direction. “Stay here, and stay out of this.”

There was another cry, the sound of swords being unsheathed and a loud wail, and among it all Faolain cried out. “No.”, Caithe whispered and pushed the outstretched arm away, dashing out from the tent and jumping into the sand. “Faolain!”, she yelled, and as the sun bared down on her and blinded her for an instant, she was overwhelmed.

As was Tivon.

The sylvari that had accompanied Faolain were attacking the centaurs without abandon, and the centaurs attempted to defend themselves, slowly rising as if from slumber and grasping their weapons that were nothing but large spears with chipped stones corded at the tip.

“Caithe, they've turned on me!”, Faolain cried and ducked beneath a spear thrust and Caithe was moving, pulling the dagger from the sheaths at her waist.

“No. Stop this at once!”, the Centaur cried, and Tivon wanted to cry it too, but his voice never came and he had no choice but to feel as Caithe turned nimble, charging into the enemies and cutting with her two daggers through flesh deep down onto bone, the flash of her blades so quick it was but a scant sliver of white.

From the corner of her eyes Caithe saw Wynne being pushed behind a defensive line of centaurs, her friends attempting to cover for her, and Wynne's expression was that of utter disbelief and horror. She raised her trembling hand toward her mouth in an attempt to speak, but a Centaur pushed her away and urged her to run. For a moment Wynne hesitated, staring from the aggressors to her friends, and then tears streamed into her eyes and she bolted in a whirl of her white dress into the shadows of the canyons.

“Wynne, come back here!”, Faolain seethed with a frustrated cry when she saw the figure in white disappear around a stone bend and in her frustration she cut against a Centaur with a ferocious snarl.

Caithe whirled around, spinning gracefully and absolutely deadly among the battlefield as if she knew each strike before it even happened. The sylvari that fell were only few, but the blood on Caithe's daggers alone was indication of how many centaurs had paid the price.

When finally Caithe rose from her crouch after having stabbed forward beneath a Centaur's chest there was a dampened thump as the body went down into the sand, and everything filled with an awful silence.

_By the Pale Tree, what have they done? ,_ Tivon wondered aghast. 

“If she wants a chase, so be it.”, Faolain said scornfully and beckoned the sylvari to follow her. She climbed over the corpses as if they were not even there, stepping atop limp and leg alike with no regard for dignity.

They followed Wynne's trace and found her speaking rapidly and urgently with another Centaur who mustered them as they approached and held out an outstretched arm protectively in front of Wynne who was evidently shaken and crying.

_I can't watch this,_ Tivon thought, but however hard he tried to look away, to pull away, to do anything to tear away from this, he couldn't.

“You did this to them, you and her!”, Wynne accused with a shaking finger raised at them. “They were so kind to me. How can I ever face Mother after this? How can you?”

“You need to stop that talk.”, Caithe reprimanded sharply and blood dripped from the dagger upon the sand. “Let's talk this out.”

_Who are you kidding?_ Tivon wanted to ask.  _You have killed them, you know what Faolain will do. Why aren't you stopping this?_

“I have nothing to say to either of you.”; Wynne protested vehemently.

Faolain stepped forward with a swagger to her; it was almost as if she was relishing this outcome. “Now, you know we didn't want any of this.”

“You cannot be allowed to escape after what you have done here.”, the Centaur warned in a low voice and lifted a staff. It must be one of the casters, those able to summon elements at their will.

“Caithe, handle this.”, Faolain nodded curtly toward the Centaur, her dark eyes glaring after the white figure that was running over the sand again. “Wynne's run back to the refuge.”

Before could utter a word or protest Faolain was already moving and the Centaur attempted to cast in her direction, but Caithe shadow-stepped toward him, interrupting his spell with a quick stab at his wrist.

The Centaur snarled and turned around, the staff swinging with him and Caithe lifted her dagger to block it – and saw the sharp plate of stone that whirled through the air too late. It crashed into her body and sent her reeling back, but she managed to catch her balance after just a few steps.

The other sylvari charged in and surrounded the centaur, but it seemed the mage was not intimidated the slightest. He raised a hand into the air and a gust of wind whirled around him in a circular motion, spiralling upward and dragging up dust and sand alike.

“Wind, heed my call.”, the centaur called and whilst the sylvari lifted their arms to protect and shield their eyes from the grains poking into their eyes and faces, the centaur lifted his arm higher. The gust grew stronger and lifted the sylvari briefly from their feet before they were blasted away. One of them was unfortunate enough to be blasted close-quarter into the side of the wall, the bark creaking and breaking on impact and the body falling limp.

_Stop it,_ Tivon begged when Caithe began to move.  _Stop it, stop it stop it._

But Caithe did not stop. The swing of the Centaurs staff came in a diagonal line down toward her form and she jumped into the air, somersaulting over the weapon with grace. Her daggers cut along the centaurs neckline when she lifted above him and her body came back down onto the ground on the other side.

The centaur grunted and hissed in pain, teeth bared. “I can not suffer you to live.”, the centaur growled and attempted to lift his staff once more and Caithe shadow-stepped once more and Tivon could suddenly see the wide, surprised eyes of the Centaur as he glanced down at her and then at the two daggers that were embedded deep in his torso.

The body lay heavy on the blades, slowly sinking in on itself and Caithe pulled her blades back with a squishy sound. The ground vibrated slightly when the centaur fell and Tivon felt sick.

Caithe stared down at the Centaur for a moment and Tivon wondered what she might have been thinking, but the next second she whirled around on her heel and was rushing back toward the village where the white and dark figures already were.

Wynne was on her knees sobbing pitifully, her hands guiding soft, soothing circles of Nakhiis belly, but the scout and her friend lay unmoving and limp, blue, wide eyes staring at nothing.

“Oh, my poor friends. I'm so, so sorry.”, she whispered and Faolain let her eyes wander over the corpses with disgust.

“Some friend you are.”, she lectured, eyes snapping down toward Wynne who was her sister – yet there was no compassion, not even a hint of it. “They gave you shelter here, so you could hide with them—from us!” The last came out as a screech that was unsylvari and Caithe approached carefully, her steps almost silent. “Then you set them against us, and just look what happened.” Faolain stretched out her hand and snorted. “They might have overwhelmed Caithe and I, had my friends not happened along to help us.”

“Stop!”, Wynne cried, and to Tivon's surprise, Faolain did. “I can't be here another moment. I won't!” She thrust herself up with a sudden burst and was on her feet the next instant, running past Faolain and shoving her out of the way.

“I don't believe it. There she goes again.”, Faolain grumbled, but before she could set into motion to follow Wynne this time, one of the other sylvari stepped forward with the same disregard for the corpses around him.

“It was our pleasure to assist the two of you here.”, the sylvari said, and Tivon finally recognized him. It was Cadeyrn. “We admire your work.”

“Our "work" here was nothing to take pride in.”, Caithe reprimanded him and only got a glare in return, but she did not even deign to return it.

Finally Tivon felt the pull and when the world shifted into one once again he fell from where he knelt backwards onto his bottom, panting to regain his breath. There was a sudden push at his back that kept him from falling over completely and he recognized the broad hand, but his head was whirling and he noticed that his arms were trembling.

“You look shaken. I think I'm glad I didn't see whatever you relived this time.”, Jory murmured and Tivon noticed that she crouched beside him. Tivon nodded and gulped and slowly adjusted his position, resting on his knees and sitting down on his calves and facing his friends.

“Wynne's centaur friends turned on them.”, Tivon murmured, the memory flashing by. “Things escalated...violently.”

They all caught on what that meant. “Gods. She's been to some dark places, hasn't she?”, Jory murmured.

Tivon nodded and stared at the ground in front of his knees. He had killed before, it was not that which made him feel quite so distraught. It was the circumstances that had lead to the bloodbath; why had Caithe not seen that Faolain would take it all to a far worse level? Why had she not stopped her?

“Here.”, Rox murmured and he raised his head and only now noticed the water skin dangling in front of him. He took it carefully and dragged a deep pull, the water warm but refreshing all the same. When he brought it from his lips and closed it he gave it back.

“Thanks.”, he murmured. “It was...a bloodbath. They killed all those centaurs.” He shook his head disbelieving.

“What happened to Wynne?”, Jory asked and Kas gave her a look as if to say _Don't push so much,_ but Jory only shrugged in answer, waiting for Tivon to reply.

Tivon lifted his gaze and trailed with his eyes over the canyons and rocks before he saw the similar two pillar toward which Wynne had fled. “There.”, Tivon murmured and nodded with his head toward the place.

“If you're up for it, we should have a look.”, Jory murmured and Tivon nodded and slowly stood.

“Yeah.”, he answered and took a deep breath. “Let's go.”

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the Living Story you go through this whole ordeal with only Jory and have none of your companions with you which doesn't make any sense. I mean, you pass through Camp Resolve and could pick them up easily along the way, right?  
> Anyway, my point is: We're not going to the cave, see the door locked, return to Stonehealer to make a ritual and get a blazing torch to beat a sigil with. Nu-uh. Next up: Mystery Cave, because Seruna needs no fillers :D  
> Is anyone sad about this? If s.o. was looking forward to that, let me know, but I think the mission only had value for those that played GW1 - because you had a similar mission there and it was alot of nostalgia (Don't get me wrong, I loved that episode. I was like "Hell yeah let's do this I know all of this damn this is good", but for Tivon there's really no point.), but I might be persuaded to make an extra chapter if you explicitly wish it.
> 
> Now for the fun part: I had the idea of making a poll. It's not a poll in the sense that whatever comes out at the end will be what's decided; I'm just curious to see what you guys think.  
> So...who are you rooting for?  
>  **Tivon and...** (Braham, Sgileas, Canach, Derwen, Laranthir...heck, take your pick. Knock me out with what you'd like to see. Who knows, maybe it'll spark an idea in my head! :D Maybe you think Tivon would fit someone else perfectly who is not listed here - and that's fine! Just tell me <3)  
>  **Sgileas and...** (Same here. Trahearne, Canach, Laranthir...go take a pick and let me know.)  
>  **Any extras.** Perhaps there's always been this one pairing you thought would be really nice, and you're just a shy by-standing shipper who needs to get it out. (For me, e.g., I was really fascinated with Rytlock and Logan for a while. Shame me all you like, I've only evolved :D)


	44. The Mystery Cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I know. You did not expect to hear from me, did you? I didn't expect for me to be here either, but here I am. All that I said is still true - I am still very busy, exams are only now starting and I am not as ahead on the story as I could be, but seriously, these next few chapters have such a high impact on everything and it's almost torture to keep them to myself. Am I making any sense? >_<  
> I really really would like to know what you think of this chapter, especially the fighting scene. I have rewritten it about three times, and I'll tell you at the end what the chapter looked like at first (worse, imo, but hey, you might think differently.)  
> So...go ahead more unbiased than I ever could and let me know!

There was one seed that remained, only one left to plant, and somehow the correlation between the seeds running out and Wynne having no where else to go brought Tivon only to remember one thing:

Wynne would die a the hand of her sister.

He dreaded to witness that. There was barely anything worse he could imagine than to kill one of his siblings, especially to be close enough to see it.

There was a large, barred stone gate that blocked their paths. It was heavy and broad but only very recently it must have been opened because there were scrapes and traces in the sand, no less the scratch marks upon the stone beneath that drew white lines across.

“She could have come through here.”, Rox murmured as they slowly entered inside. The gap was barely large enough to allow Rox to squeeze through, whereas Braham struggled for a few moments, cursing loudly before he let out a frustrated growl and yanked at the broad side, causing it to open another few inches with a loud, scraping noise.

The whole group watched in pure amazement when the norn finally stepped through and clapped his hands together to get rid of the dust on his palms, and when he finally glanced up he noticed that he was being watched.

“What?”, he said, slightly annoyed. “The door had it coming.”

Kas chuckled and Rox only rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

There was a narrow passageway that led them ahead and further around a bend and they stood in awe as they gazed upon the large cave that opened before them. It was nearly a dome, reaching up so high Tivon could see sunlight glittering through gaps in the stone, but not enough to illuminate the cave properly. There were however statues of gold that reflected the sunlight to such an extent that they acted as natural lamps, reflecting the sunlight softly and emitting the cave in a golden glow.

Dust particles that drifted in the air fell into the gilded light, shining golden and afloat in a brush of wind they could not so much feel as know that it must be there.

Various plants curled and crawled up the walls from the sand up toward the ceiling in a desperate attempt to reach sunlight and some juts were covered in large leaves and beautifully woven ivy. 

“Oh.”, Kas breathed, mouth agape. “What is this place?” Her voice was hushed as if she was afraid to stir the shadows.

“Wait... Boss, didn't you say there was a golden location in your vision?”, Jory asked and turned her head toward him.

“Y-yeah.”, he murmured, and the statues felt...familiar, but it wasn't _it_. It was similar, the aura and the golden light, but it was not even nearly as grand and marvellous as the pillars he had seen. “We must be getting close to something.”

“Does it feel like this is the place to plant the final seed?”, Kas wondered. “What's your intuition telling you?”

Breaking from his reverie Tivon glanced down into the wide cave that was filled with sand and saw a small compartment at the end where he could make out pieces of a sleeping bag sloppily hidden beneath leaves. “Over there.”, he pointed and moved down carefully, the sand shifting under each of his step at the steep slide. When the ground evened out again he hastened his pace and crouched down beside the sleeping bag, only to find that it had not been slept in recently; the dust had settled atop of it in a thick cover and sand had gathered atop of it. There were no footprints to be seen anywhere, but the again Tivon had never expected to find any, not when it was Caithe who he was looking for.

Braham looked around warily before his eyes slowly settled on Tivon who crouched low on the ground still, eyes focussed on the sleeping bag in front of him. “So this is where we're planting the last seed?”, Braham asked and Rox brushed past him to crouch down beside Tivon.

Her intelligent green eyes wandered over the material, giving it the very same inspection Tivon had. She stretched out her clawed hand and brushed over it briefly before lifting her palm and staring at the dust for a moment. “Caithe was in here years ago, so it's as good a place as any.”, she murmured and gave Tivon a look.

“The boss's last memory vision showed Wynne running into here. Caithe and Faolain were right behind her.”, Jory added and finally Tivon reached out behind him into the belt pouch fastened at his hip by a curl of vines and clasped his fingers softly and carefully around the seed. Indeed, it pulsed in his hand warmly and strongly, responding to the area profusely.

“If this place is of any importance, maybe we'll find something that will lead us to her.”, Kas murmured, her neck craned to let her eyes trail over the interior.

Braham sauntered closer to the statue and leaned in closer and sighed. “I wish this were real gold. Can you imagine what Hoelbrak could build with it? A new lodge honouring one of the Spirits, maybe.”

Tivon followed Braham's gaze and imagined it in his mind's eye. “That's a nice thought, Braham. I'm sure Hoelbrak would be grateful.” Braham nodded but didn't meet his gaze; the norn was too lost in thought to notice.

“This place makes my skin crawl.”, Rox murmured and Tivon had noticed that she was gazing around not only warily, but also had her shoulders pulled up and an arrow knocked into the string of her bow when she stood. “My fur's all tingly.”

“No need to worry.”, Tivon soothed. “There's five of us.”

“OK, boss.”, Jory said with a smile, breaking them from their conversation. “Would you like to do the honours?”

“We'll watch your back. Just be careful.”, Braham said and averted his eyes from the golden columns and statues, twirling his mace in his hand.

Tivon nodded in answer and then turned away, digging a small hole into the soft sand before dropping the seed inside. Kota chirped beside him, but Tivon only shook his head. “Stay with the others.”, he told the Karka and Kota gave him a glance as if he did not understand before chirping and rushing off toward Frostbite. Tivon carefully dropped his staff into the sand beside him before he concentrated on an image of Caithe.

His vision began to blur and fade in and out, darkening before becoming lighter again. The sensation was becoming almost familiar now, but it disquieted him still. When he stood he was Caithe standing abreast with Faolain in front of a cowering Wynne who was cornered against the back of the small compartment.

“You're not leaving until you tell me the truth.”, Faolain snarled and stepped forward, her expression darkening.

“Why?”, Wynne wailed, looking at Caithe for help, but there would be none. “Why are you doing this?”, she supplicated to know.

“Because I need to know. We need to know.”, Faolain seethed and lunged forward to grip Wynne's wrist tightly in a vice grip. Wynne yelped in surprise and pain, gasping when Faolain pulled her closer with a jerk. “Tell me what you and Mother were talking about that day.”

“Faolain...this isn't necessary.”, Caithe interjected, but it was as if Faolain was deaf.

“Please, Faolain. Stop this.”, Wynne begged and tried to regain her ground, pushing away from Faolain who was looking at her with hatred. “Please. I promised our mother I wouldn't tell anyone. Please...let's go talk to her.”

Faolain's eyes narrowed menacingly. “I'll make you wish you'd never left the Dream, traitor.”, she hissed and released Wynne with a motion that had Wynne stumbling and falling to the ground into the sand. She caught her fall with her hands just barely and glanced up at Caithe with wide, fearful eyes, begging without words.

“Caithe...”, she began, tears filling her eyes. “I swore to Mother...”, she trailed off and Tivon was sure Caithe understood, but under the expectant stare of her lover Caithe held her ground.

“Wynne, just tell her what she wants to know and we can go home.”, Caithe said, sounding almost...tired.

“She's betraying us all, Caithe. It's as clear as the tears on her face.” Faolain's words were almost a slap, as if the tears were not humiliation enough.

For a moment Caithe paused and hesitantly she suggested, “Faolain...maybe this has gone far enough.”

“No.”, Faolain almost exploded, glaring at Caithe as if she had just betrayed her in the most contemptible way possible. “It hasn't gone nearly far enough. Maybe pain will make her talk. I saw a bristle-burn plant on the way in. Watch her, Caithe. I'll be back shortly.”

Wynne's eyes widened as she watched Faolain disappear around the bend and Caithe sighed. “Wynne, please. I'm tired. I just want to go back to the Grove. Tell her.”

Wynne closed her eyes, tears streaming down her round cheeks. Seeing her like this, humiliated, broken, torn, Tivon did not want anything else than to kneel down and rest his hand onto her shoulder and assure her that she was going to be fine, that he would not let Faolain torture her, but he was powerless.

That, however, brought him to ponder with a start when he realized what that meant; what it meant that he gazed upon Wynne and felt sympathy, empathy, _compassion_.

_By the Pale Tree_ , he thought with a chill of dread rolling over his spine which was not necessarily  _there_ , but he felt it nonetheless. _I can not remember when I last meditated._

He'd been so caught up with his friends, the Pact, Mordremoth; he'd made reassurances to his friends he would be vigilant and diligent, and he'd _neglected_ that. He should have realized by the time when Braham had caught him from the overhang and he'd smiled that the flutter meant that the feelings were streaming back in through creaks in the floodgate.

“The centaurs...didn't have to die.”, Wynne sounded broken and she let her gaze drop toward the sand that splayed between her fingers. “You must see that she's going too far this time, don't you? And she's dragging you along with her.” Her voice was unnaturally calm and collected, as if she accepted her fate; it was a strength Tivon could only behold with his breath held.

Caithe simply looked down at her with a contemplative stare. She did not move, did not speak, but Wynne must have seen something cross over her features or blink in the corner of Caithe's eyes because she attempted once again, slowly rising from the ground even though her lips still trembled. The white leafs curling around her body shifted softly, rustling as she moved, and sand glided down her side toward the ground.

“I can't tell her what she's asking for, Caithe. You've seen what Faolain's capable of. She massacred those centaurs.”

“They attacked first. She had to defend herself.”, Caithe answered back, but Wynne shook her head.

“She struck first. He was unarmed.” Wynne's eyes, swollen from the tears and glistening with water, were now firm and honest. There was no hint of lie in her features. She was telling the truth.

Even Caithe saw that. “I...”, she began, and then tried again, “I... No. I don't think she'd...”, she trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

“She'll torture me until I tell my secret. That will be the end of our kind.”, Wynne insisted and stepped closer toward Caithe.

“The end of sylvari? What do you mean?”, Caithe wondered, suddenly breathless and unable to move.

Wynne resigned herself and glanced toward where Faolain had disappeared before she lowered her voice and whispered, “We come from the jungle dragon. We belong to it. We're meant to serve it.”

Caithe and Tivon cried out at the same time. “You're lying!”

Wynne held Caithe's eyes hard and unmoving. “I saw it in my Dream.”, she insisted, voice still hushed and she gripped Caithe's wrist and she did not resist. “And if Faolain knew, she wouldn't keep it a secret. She'd use it against Mother. When word got out, the world would see us as monsters.” Caithe took a deep breath, just as staggered as Tivon felt.

_By the Pale Tree_ .

His mind was spinning. He needed to get out. He needed air. He needed...

Mercilessly, the memory continued. “You know her. All she wants is power. Think. She will break me—unless you kill me first. Faolain must never learn...”, she trailed off when she heard the rustling of ferns in the distance, her eyes growing wide in terror. “Please...kill me. Now. She's coming.”

Caithe followed Wynne's gaze and then looked down at her sheathed dagger before she took it in her hand.

_No_ , Tivon thought.

Caithe lifted it to inspect it, the handle a green stem, the blade a silver thorn with blossoms curling around the back, a pink and red-flushed small blossom adorning the edge of the handle.

_No!_ , Tivon thought again, screaming, but Caithe could not hear him.

Caithe closed her eyes and brought a hand around Wynne, grasping into the soft ferns that curled around the small of her back.

_Caithe don't -_

“I will bear your pain, Sister.”, Caithe whispered and Tivon screamed one last time to no avail, his voice echoing only in the confinement of his own mind. His hand – _Caithe's hand_ , he tried to correct himself in his daze, but it was lost when the sensation took over – plunged the dagger deep into Wynne's chest.

The dagger sunk in frighteningly easy up till the hilt and Wynne gasped at the pain, her eyes growing large and wide. For a moment she looked as if she could not believe that Caithe had done this, as if she had doubted her to be capable of such a thing, and then a fracture of gratitude passed over her features before her head craned and her body fell limp, and Caithe caught her easily against her own body but sunk down to her knees the next instant, suddenly weak.

The body fell from her grasp and Wynne's body fell to the ground with a soft  _thud_ , her head turning to look up at Caithe with dead, wide eyes, her hand stretched out toward her, and Caithe lifted her own hands toward her face but could not control the tremble in them.

For a moment she stared, aghast and horrified, before tears blurred over her vision and she covered her eyes and fell forward, her forearms propping her and keeping her from hitting the ground head-first. She let out a chocked sob that rattled through her before a voice pierced through the daze.

“Caithe!”, Faolain exclaimed, suddenly terrifyingly close. “What have you done?”, she asked, and even though she could have been mad, _wrathful_ even, she knelt down beside Caithe and rested her hands atop Caithe's shoulder in a gesture of comfort and care. There was a moment of silence in which Caithe lifted herself and sat down on her calves, her eyesight still blurry before Faolain pressed, “Did she talk?”, she gleaned, and Tivon held his breath.

Caithe looked at Wynne's eyes as if she was not really there, too dazed to notice the question before she turned her head. The seconds stretched almost painfully and Tivon hoped that at least Caithe hadn't told her, that at least she kept Wynne's secret and when Caithe opened her mouth he was rapt.

“No.”, Caithe answered with a shake of her head and turned away. “Nothing of consequence.”

His vision folded back into reality and he stared into the sand in front of him where the seed shrivelled and wilted, becoming nothing but a parched, wrinkled corn.

He heard his friends talking behind him but he could not get a noise out. He could not turn around to face them now that he knew.

_By the Pale Tree,_ they – all the sylvari – were  _Dragon Minions._ They were like the dead the Elder dragon Zhaitan conjured, they were like the Mordrem that wandered the Silverwastes. That was why Mordremoth was only ever in the heads of sylvari, that was why Tivon could hear it, that was why Aerin had heard, why Scarlet had-

He took a chocking breath and realized he was shacking, and his sudden drag of air got his friends to notice he was back again.

“That was fast.”, Jory joked and her footsteps drew closer as she moved around to face him. “So, what did you-”, she stilled when she saw him, when she saw his face. “Tiv?”, she asked, her voice suddenly infinitely soft, so gentle as he'd barely ever heard it, and she knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Tiv?”, Kas asked, beside him the next instant. “Tiv? What's wrong? Talk to us.”

It was Rox's voice that interjected before he could bring his mouth to open. “Tiv, Caithe is here.”

_By the Pale Tree,_ how was he supposed to take all of this at once? He turned around and saw that Rox was right. Caithe was standing close to the group, her eyes gazing warily over them, her shoulders drawn in defensively. He took a deep, steadying breath before he tentatively rose to his feet with his fingers clasping his staff weakly and barely noticed Kas' hand that was lifted in case he needed support.

“Was that a memory seed I saw?”, Caithe asked carefully, studying him and the small hole he'd dug into the sand.

Tivon took another deep breath and moved closer toward her because it was the only destination he had that would give him just a little bit more time to sort through the mess in his head and prepare for when he told his friends the truth. Tivon brushed past Braham who stood defensively at the head of the group without glancing up at the norn. He felt that if he allowed himself to stare at his friend's eyes, if he allowed them to coddle him, if he allowed them to cradle him he'd not take another step, even though he felt each step dragging and sapping his strength.

_If you're to sweet to me, I'll fall apart._

By the Pale Tree, Jory had been _so_ right.

So many things were going through his head, so many questions he had and needed answered, all of them swirling and whirling in his head like a hurricane uprooting his very mind when he met Caithe's eyes. It felt as if the world was spinning faster now, as if the cave was bearing down on him, constricting his ability to breathe.

“It was.”, he murmured quietly in answer.“Our mother gave it to me.”

“Our mother?”, Caithe frowned and did not relax the slightest as if she expected him to be an enemy. Perhaps she even thought he was lying. “She led you to this knowledge? Why?”

“Tell me, is it true?”, he asked back, voice at the verge of breaking even though he tried to keep it steady. Caithe hesitated for a moment, and her eyes darted toward the memory seed and back to him, assessing the situation. Tivon had no patience. Not this time. It was baring down on him, the inconceivable and yet undeniable thing he had heard – the memory he has _seen –_ the  uncertainty and _hope_ flailing inside him like a lifeline in the waves. “Tell _me_.”, he demanded with a voice that cut. "Is it _true_?”

“Which part?”, she asked, her own voice sharp in response. “Did I murder one of my fellow firstborn? Do we sylvari come from an Elder Dragon?”, she paused and sighed, and in that pause, even though it lasted for only a single second, even though it was only the one rise of Caithe's chest and a huff of air, Tivon held his own breath in anticipation, in hope that it was not true, that somehow the memory seed had shown him something else, and the whole cave seemed to grow laden in the momentary silence. Then Caithe averted her eyes, and even though Tivon had no heart as an organ to speak off, something inside him dropped. “Yes...it's all true.”

_No_ , a voice inside him screamed, but whatever deviance built up against the truth was smothered by paling clarity, and even though inside him everything seemed to tear itself apart, he stood stock still, face frozen in features of defeat and slowly lowered his gaze toward the ground.

He heard a gasp behind him, but he did not turn around to face his friends. He wasn't sure how, what kind of faces they had now that they knew. The betrayal of Derwen all those months ago seemed nothing in comparison to this. He was not just an ignorant moron now – no, now, he was an _enemy_. 

By the Pale Tree, how would he face this? How would they react? He  _feared_ to see their faces, even though a voice inside him yelled that they would trust him, that it would be alright, but everything he'd thought  _made_ him was...

not real.

He had never been what he thought. Not benign, not one of the Pale Tree's children. No, he was...the minion, a  _son_ of the Elder Dragon Mordremoth, a weapon to be used against the world. It suddenly made so much sense that he heard Mordremoth calling. That it demanded his obedience. That sometimes he found himself faltering  _despite_ knowing better. Was it his nature? Was he...doomed from the start?

Caithe waited for him as the thoughts churned and only slowly did he bring out, “You're not who I thought you were.” Caithe shrugged her shoulders as if she heard that every day.

“None of us are who others perceive us to be.”, she replied almost nonchalantly.

“How could you kill Wynne?”, Tivon asked desperately. He remembered the wide, blown eyes full of fear, and Wynne had died simply because she had not seen Caithe betraying her lover. All because of _Faolain._

“I released her.”, Caithe began. “Wynne knew Faolain wouldn't stop, and though I didn't want to believe it, I did too. I made a choice, and suddenly I was carrying the future of the sylvari race on my shoulders.”

“Would Faolain have told? Is what Wynne said true?”, he pressed further.

“Maybe not at first, but she'd have used it to turn some of us against the Pale Tree or she'd have told her Nightmare courtiers; and if word ever got out, someone would have come to destroy us all.” Caithe's eyes wandered toward Tivon's friends behind him for a brief moment.

“What happened afterwards?”, he asked.

“I told her to run and never return to the Grove. So, that's what she did. The Nightmare Court was forming, and she was like them. She begged me to go with her, but I refused.” Her gaze turned forlorn, melancholic even, a choice she did not truly regret, but a memory filled with rue regardless.

“Why?”, Tivon wanted to know. “You were lovers. Why didn't you?”

Caithe looked forlorn and melancholic when she answered. “I love...loved her so much, but I would never let her darkness consume me. She saw Wynne's murder as evidence that I was like her, and so she has refused to let me go. Her love for me has been a curse.”

In that regard, he and Caithe were similar. They both loved sylvari that fell to, or always were meant to be, if they had cared to see it, Nightmare. And they both had refused that path because...it was _wrong_.

“Does our mother know what happened with Wynne?”, he asked more softly, daring not to imagine what Mother would have thought or even _felt_ at the loss of more of her children. Riannoc, the secondborn that had been captured by asura, and then...

“Of course. She felt Wynne's death, and the Dream revealed what had happened. I've never seen her so heartbroken. Over time she forgave me, though I don't think she ever forgave Faolain.”

Tivon was not sure what all this meant. His mind was still churning and spinning, jolting from one place to the next until his eyes glazed over the small woven backpack the Caithe carried. It was clear what was inside it, and Caithe noticed his gaze.“You need to give me the egg, Caithe.”, Tivon said, voice weary but certain. It was not even that he did not _trust_ her, but it was _his_ calling.

Caithe assessed him and glanced behind him once more, her eyes wandering over his friends that stood behind him. “The egg must be protected.”, she said tenaciously and took a step back.

“Caithe.”, Tivon supplicated and stretched out his hand in a gesture for her to halt.

“You and I are on the same side.”, Caithe soothed. “Don't ever forget that, brother mine.”

“The egg-”, Tivon began, but the sudden rumbling of stone around him made him still and quiet, his eyes rising toward the ceiling. Everything began to shake around them and Caithe turned around in a flurry, her white hair whirling around her head.

“The dragon's shadow is upon us!”, she warned with a cry and lunged forward - _away_ from him. Tivon jumped after her in an act of desperation, feet digging deep into the sand as he pursued her through the cave, air brushing past him as he dashed. She was fast, moving toward the slope and the entrance, and Tivon knew if he did not catch up with her she'd disappear.

“Caithe, don't!”, he called out desperately and barely missed her wrist as he reached out toward her. With another dart he tried to grasp any part of her, arm, leaf, perhaps even a pouch from her belt, but his fingertips slipped over and she stepped into stealth, disappearing in front of his eyes. He heard the rustling of her armour for a small moment longer, but he could see no imprints in the sand and cursed when he realized she must have shadow-stepped up the slope.

“Tivon!”, a voice yelled behind him in trepidation and he came to a sudden halt, sand sloshing over his feet and he whirled around. He expected many things, but not that which transpired.

There was only a faint warning in the form of a warm brush of air that caressed over his leaves in a shiver and the darkening around him as a shadow fell over him. The whole cave seemed to darken and he craned his neck to see what caused the large shadow – only to notice he stood right beneath the Shadow of the Dragon.

It glowered down at him with squinted, yellow eyes, a low growl emitting from its throat. It's large body covered the crevice that had bathed the cave in light, the glimmer of gold and gilded sand suddenly turning into a field of ashen grey and a sea of dark. It tilted its head like a predator observing its prey and then turned, its haunches and claws releasing the cave ceiling, the large body turning as it fell toward the ground in an almost achingly slow motion in which Tivon couldn't move, rooted by fear.

His friends cried out to him, voices shrill and loud, but not as loud as the rumble and the cracking of stone the reverberated when the dragon landed. All Tivon could do was command his body to lunge sideways and vault over his back just in time and the sudden rumble exploded around him with an earth-shuddering crash. The ground shook to such an extent that he could not find his footing and he stumbled onto his side and caught himself on all fours.

The sand beneath his knees and fingers trembled and he turned onto his back, gazing up at the Shadow of the Dragon's yellow eyes that had it's head barely a meters away, slowly scouring closer with bared, gnarled teeth. It opened its jaw and the stench of moist compost filled the air, stifling and chocking Tivon where he scrambled backwards, sand sifting through his fingers.

The dragon watched him, almost  _pondering_ , when there was a loud roar and its long, winded neck snapped sideways, yellow eyes fixing on Braham who came rushing closer with his weapons raised. Tivon rolled over his back and planted his feet in the ground, jumping up and away a few paces when a large dragon claw landed where he had been a mere second ago, branches and sharpened thorns digging deep holes into the sand.

The dragon growled in frustration and attempted to bring its attention back to Braham who had sprinted considerably in only the few seconds, his mace hitting the dragon in the side of the head as it turned. The force of the strike was forceful enough to make the dragon reel back with a cry, and then it let out a loud growl that shook the whole cave.

The stone around them clattered in protest and Tivon had to lift his hands to cover his ears, a sharp ringing noise piercing through his head. He stumbled backwards and found that the ground was unsteady beneath him, shacking and quaking violently as the cry rippled through the very foundation of the cave.

There was a loud, resonating crack somewhere above their heads and what little light they had had dimmed and fell away, the crevice above them blocked completely. His pattern came to life with a pulse, glowing like dim sunlight from the pattern in his bark.

There was a  _swish_ noise and the sudden flare of torchlight, and amidst the darkness and the dance of the flame Tivon could see Rox's features, stern and determined, as she stemmed the torch into the ground to give them light.

The Dragon lifted itself on its haunches and spread its wings that were nothing but large fans of twisted coppice and brambles bundled together. With a large flap of its wings the torch flickered violently and went out again, and Rox groaned.

“I can do this all day!”, she protested and then Tivon saw a flash of blue light that emitted from out of nowhere. He lifted his hands to shield his eyes and blinked against it, slowly recognizing Braham as he crouched with his shield in front of him, a massive blue dome surrounding him.

When the dragon growled and lifted its front leg to swipe at Braham, Tivon finally came back from his reverie and lifted his hand and conjured a wall of vines that burst from the sand, not only blocking the blow but entangling the dragon's leg as well before it reached close enough to hit Braham.

There was another pair of battle cries and he saw the flash of something white and golden, Kas' blonde hair reflected almost ghostly in the near darkness, but he couldn't make out Jory. Instead of waiting he rushed toward Braham's side and saw that Rox lit another torch and cast it onto the ground, offering a more natural light source that engulfed their silhouettes in a gilded light.

She dipped the tip of her arrows into the flame and shot at the dragon, managing to set it alight with natural fire that burned and consumed some of the branches, but it didn't catch to form a blaze.

Braham was getting up from his crouch when Tivon arrived beside him and rested his hand atop Braham's arm, letting his magic flow through the skin without a question asked or permission granted. “I've got you.”, Tivon said, and Braham only gave a curt nod, not even asking  _how_ or  _what,_ simply trusting in him, and charged in, roaring louder than both Kas and Jory, and the dragon – confused as to where exactly it should  _look –_ took a blow from three sides at once.

There was the sound of Kas' illusion shattering, a sparkling blur of distortion lighting up the cave for a mere instant in a burst of purple glow, the shattered illusions cutting into the dragon's side and confusing it. Jory must have cut at the Dragon's haunches, her sword actually  _cutting through_ the branches, cleaving them open enough that the branches faltered under the dragon's weight and crunching loudly as the haunches collapsed. As it turned its head wildly Braham was there to greet its snout with a thundering swing of his mace in a burst of white and blue sparkles that scattered on impact and had the dragon cry out in frustration, turning it's head away desperately.

Braham's body was engulfed in a white glow that emitted from Tivon's palm, a wisp offering not only a faint source of light, but also empowering Braham's strike and the general strength the norn hereditarily possessed. The stream that connected them wove beautifully in the air looking like the slow motion capture of a lightning strike, forking out into Braham's body in fine, white silver linings that attached like spiderwebs and clung to the norn's every movement.

Tivon felt the tether pulling between him and Braham and even though its continuous drain of his magic it felt warm and empowering, even though he was on the giving, not the receiving end. His staff was clutched in his other hand and he closed his eyes, focussed on the nature magic that coursed through him. He sought anything to help, to empower him and his friends, and from within the staff came a shuddering crackling noise.

“ _We are old and weary.”,_ a voice said that only Tivon could hear. It was as if the staff spoke to him, as if...

He _knew_ that voice.

“ _But we are protectors of the land. We will stand and fight.”_

Tivon lifted his staff into the air and noticed how heavy it suddenly was, but he pulled it up up _up_ until finally a ghastly silhouette appeared from beneath the sand, slowly pushing toward the surface. He saw the great front leg, the branches as they erupted from the sand and scattered the beige particles across, and then the Druid pulled itself from the sand up, shook it's great body and head and then charged toward the Shadow of the Dragon.

It was no real Druid – it was only a ghostly projection, just the spirit, but it was material nonetheless, and Tivon felt its power coursing through the air like the soothing, cool spatter of soft rain.

As it charged forward it lowered it's head and rammed the sharp, large branches into the dragon's leg, causing the Dragon to stagger backwards at the force, and Braham stood with his mace raised and mouth opened agape in utter disbelief and confusion.

The dragon fell onto its haunches, lifted its front legs and titled its long neck to the side in an attempt to escape the many attackers that had it surrounded, and when it lifted its wings in an attempt to force itself upward Braham growled, “Oh no you don't!” and it was Rox's continuous flaming arrows as well as Vail's sharp claws that managed to tear the wings apart, flames spreading more evenly now.

The dragon's front legs flailed and the wings flapped uselessly, causing a powerful gust of air to wash over them. Tivon's leaves brushed violently on his skin and he lifted his hand against the swarm of sand before he raised his voice.

“Now!”, he cried, and everyone understood. There was no doubt whatsoever. Tivon pointed his staff toward the dragon and Braham, who was charging in once again with his mace, and he dashed forward, the tether that still winded between them growing thinner and stretched in an attempt to keep Braham in range.

As they charged in the dragon let out a long, angry roar – and it was the only warning they had before it turned into frenzy. It bowed forward, long, winded legs crashing into the sand, and bared teeth snapping to grasp the Spirit Druid within its jaw.

Tivon felt it; felt the teeth digging into him, into his sides, and he stumbled and fell with a cry, piercing and stinging pain coursing through him. White agony made him clench his teeth and fingers, and only dimly did he notice that the staff was no longer in his grasp.

The druid gave a soft gasp and then vaporized into a fine mist of blue particles that elevated into the air and scattered, and only then did the phantom pain ebb from Tivon's body. He took a deep, staggering breath and propped himself up, craning his neck to see if his friends had succeeded.

The dragon lashed out with all it had, tail, neck, body and claws, thrashing around wildly despite all the damage they had already caused. They had all reached the dragon, Kas was dodging a haunch with a side-way twirl as it kicked out toward her, Jory swung her greatsword in a powerful arc, her dark hair flying around and over her shoulder, and Braham was lifting his mace for a strike at the dragon's jaw.

“Duck!”, Tivon screamed when the dragon leaned sideways and lashed out with it's long tail. It flailed horizontally and Tivon was on his feet, running forward, but the snap of the tail hit Braham before he reached.

There was a loud shout of surprise and a low cry and Tivon saw Braham being catapulted into the air and felt the tether stretching and then  _tearing_ . It snapped from his body as if all his armour had been tugged off him at once, leaving a slight sting in its wake, but not enough to make him halt. 

“Braham!”, Rox called desperately when the norn landed with a grunt and Tivon dashed over toward him, the claw coming in from over his head barely in the periphery of his vision. His eyes were focussed, his body and mind engrossed only on the thought of _reaching_ Braham.

The claw rushed down toward the ground and he felt a pulse of warmth inside him, his nature magic answering to his calling, and he jumped, _floated, lifted_ through the air feathery light in the form of a golden wisp and traversed toward Braham's side with abnormal speed, suddenly stumbling to his own feet just a few inches in front before he dropped down to his knees.

Rox was beside him and nearly jumped when he appeared quite so suddenly, her fur standing upright. “Rust my breaches!”, she cursed.

“I've got him.”, Tivon told her and she gave a nod, her green eyes focussing on the dragon once more.

“I'll keep it busy, you work your magic.”

Braham was already propping himself up on his elbows and blinked up at Tivon with a furrowed glance. “Did I-?”

Tivon somehow understood. _Did I Black Out?_

Tivon pushed his hand against Braham's chest, fingers splayed over warm skin and felt the thundering and erratic pulse of Braham's heart underneath his palm. Braham twitched at the sudden touch, his chest moving raggedly with each drawn breath. “No.”, he answered. “Are you injured?”

Despite a bad bruise forming over Braham's stomach he could find no other injuries, even with nature magic flowing through the norn's body. How was that even possible? Surely the blow must have _broken_ at least a rib or two.

“I feel fine.”, Braham said and Tivon removed his hand from Braham's skin.

“Yeah.”, Tivon agreed with a frown. “You feel fine.”

At that Braham gave a snorting laugh and stood, brushing of sand and dirt from the leather of his armour, and Tivon rose beside him. It only now occurred to him how very _odd_ what he had said sounded. He picked up the mace from the ground and let out a huff at how _heavy_ it was, but did not get to comment on it because Braham was already taking it form his fingers.

“Let's show this dragon a thing or two.”, Braham grinned and Tivon nodded, finally getting to his feet as well. He wove another tether between them, blue and white light moving in softly in waves like cords spun between them, and Braham gave one last nod before he charged in once again.

Tivon gripped his staff tightly and followed Braham, casting a surge of vines that rose into the air like a ramp in front of Braham's feet. The norn jumped atop, raised his mace and then jumped high into the air, vaulting with a shield bash into the side of the dragon's head as it had turned away to face Jory.

The dragon wailed out, head snapping toward the side before a large claw lifted aimlessly toward them, and it brushed over the sand and tore away Tivon's vines with a long swipe, branches and coppice breaking and gnarling under the force.

Splinters flew into the air and cut into his bark and Tivon lifted his arms against the barrage and pushed his feet into the ground to come to a halt when a massive force _slammed_ into him and sent him to the ground.

At first the air was pressed from his body, the second thing he felt was the sheer _force_ with which his body was pushed down and he gave a strangled choke when the claw rested over him, pinning him down to the ground.

Tivon lifted his arms free and pressed against the branches that seemed to surround him and pushed with all his might, but the claws drew in more and more as if he was not even there. His chest was constricted to the point where he couldn't breathe, his body demanding the air it required with a hazy clamour that slowly overwhelmed him.

His eyes were focussed on the dragon that was above him, large head moving sideways to snap down at Kas who jumped out of the way just in time, and an arrow landed near the dragon's eye where it promptly caught fire, but the fire began to blur into a bulb of yellow and red, the shadows began to darken even more and the edges of his vision began to draw in closer and closer. Tivon's arms began to tremble under the exertion, exhaustion settling in when his body desperately cried for air. All that he managed was to lift his hand with a grimace and attempt to combat the corrupt magic of Mordremoth that seeped through the Dragon's body and kept its fibres sticking together with his own nature magic, but as soon as he grasped a straw of his magic, it faltered on his fingertips and he felt a haziness overwhelm him, his body feeling lighter and lighter -

The grip suddenly loosened and he gasped for air, mind snapping to awareness in a split second and he pulled himself from under the dragon's grip with a flexing movements of his arms, but he fell down toward the ground when the claw gave way under his weight and landed in the sand beside his head when his body thudded to the floor.

He blinked in confusion, the loud roar of the dragon hazily catching in his ear and as he looked up toward the top of the dragon's claw, he saw Kota with his sharp pincers raised in triumph and offering a cheerful  _chirp_ in answer.

Quickly Tivon scrambled backwards when the remainder of the dragon's claw began to lift into the air and Kota tumbled down into the sand with an affronted noise, digging head first into the sand. Tivon lifted himself to his feet even though his whole body felt aching and strangely  _light_ , he grabbed Kota's legs sticking from the sand and spun out of the way beneath the belly of the dragon.

The claw landed where he had stood, smashing the dismembered claw in a reverberating crunch. His back bumped against Jory's and she whirled around in an instant, her greatsword already raised but he lifted his hand quickly against her elbow, blocking her strike long before it even came, and they both caught their breath in ragged union.

“Tivon.”, she breathed and gazed him over with an almost confused expression. “You're OK.”

“Yeah.”, he said and only now noticed how breathless he was. They both ducked when the dragon turned above them, branches and vines dangling from atop and swaying through the air like whips.

As he crouched Kota climbed his arm with painfully sharp legs and pincers until he rested atop his shoulders covering most of his upper back, but Tivon barely paid it any mind. His eyes were on the dark branches over his head lightened only by the few flickers of firelight that spread from the torches Rox had placed and as his gaze shifted he suddenly saw Braham dodging to the side with a vault, massive shoulders and back rolling over the ground before the norn stood once again. Braham took a few steps back, face grim but determined before he noticed Tivon crouching beneath the belly of the dragon.

For a moment their eyes met and Tivon glanced at Braham's shield, and Braham followed his gaze before he lifted his eyes and gave him a curt, firm nod. He took a few more steps back, the swipe of the dragon's claw missing him by bare inches and then begun to run toward Tivon.

Braham was dashing as if he did not have a heavy shield and mace in hand, legs thumping on the ground. His eyes said  _Let's do this,_ and Tivon lifted himself to his feet without casting Jory beside him another glance and dug in his forefeet, gathering momentum and speed.

_Bring upon me the sound of no sound,_ he chanted when he felt the brush of air as he dashed quickly, Kota's pincers digging in tightly to hold on.

The Dragon above them lifted its claw and slammed it down at where Braham was, but Braham didn't break his path and only dashed  _faster_ , the claw digging deep into the sand behind him and uplifting sand in a large, beige veil. Tivon felt the tether growing stronger, reverberating between them and sizzling in the form of static convergence, invigorating and powerful. 

_So that I can not hear the nightmare calling,_ Tivon continued and his arms were tugged in tightly as his sides, both running toward one another undeterred with a fiery conviction that had no room left for any doubt. There was only  _trust_ and  _faith_ and finally, what felt like an eternity, even though in reality barely two seconds had passed, Tivon was in range.

Braham dropped down to one knee without the need for a signal and slithered over the sand, knee sloshing and sifting through the grains from the velocity and alacrity and Tivon jumped into the air.

_Leave me with light_ , Tivon thought with an intensity that rattled through his mind and body, his body seemed caught in the air for only a moment as he stretched his leg forward, his toes tapping atop Braham's shield and even as he impacted he felt the warmth spread through his body like a lightning strike, a sudden erupting volcano, a firestorm baring through him and the tether sizzled at the proximity, charging off into the ground at the sides like forking lightning.

He landed with one foot on Braham's shield and the second his knee flexed, he jumped up again into the air above him. Braham lifted himself up from his crouch, vaulting Tivon into the air, and as Tivon gyrated mid-air he felt the power surge through him, he felt the calm of the storm, of a  _nether_ storm, the blinding heat enveloping his entire body

It was as if time slowed down. As if the forces of time and space themselves had decided to obey only Tivon's control. The Dragon turned its head toward where Tivon lifted into the air and yellow eyes met his own, the marine blue covering all of his skin. The universe painted atop his bark sparkled as he moved, his body door to the astral forces and the endless bounds of the universe.

There was a moment of deep and uprooted  _fear_ Tivon felt that was not his own, and finally he lifted his arm feeling completely weightless, feeling as if no matter how much time he took, time would spread out for him, slowing down and be under his control.

“ _It is afraid.”,_ Tivon realized when the dragon's eyes widened. _“Mordremoth...is afraid.”_

That realization, the epiphany, it made everything _else_ seem less relevant. The fact that he was sylvari, a minion to Mordremoth, was nothing compared to the fact that he could instil _fear_ in the Elder Dragon. That despite all of Mordremoth's efforts, Tivon had persisted and resisted perpetually at each and every turn.

There was no absolute submission. There were only manacles of the mind because that was how Mordremoth functioned. And if he elicited this terror and trepidation in Mordremoth, it meant that they could _fight_ and that they could _win._

The corner of Tivon's mouth twitched as he opened his fingers, arm stretched and palm facing the dragon.

_So that the darkness may not enter._

There was a burst of light, an explosion and eruption of white flares that cast a blinding, dazzling light through the cave. A cascade of blue followed thereafter, flames spreading and washing from the dragon's head like a geyser and down toward the ground, fanning out over the sand in a cleansing wave that brushed over Braham, Rox, Kas and Jory in a warm breeze.

The dragon wailed in agony, but the white and blue flames consumed every branch, every bramble and vine, guzzling and feeding off Mordremoth's corruption. It was a cleansing, a _purge_ that turned into a conflagration of white flames, lighting up the dragon like a large effigy beneath a starless sky.

It thrashed and whirled around and Tivon felt the pulling sensation, felt the drag of gravity and his stomach bottomed out, somersaulted and he descended down and he glanced only briefly before his feet met the ground. The impact jolted through him, his knees bending to cushion and ease the landing and he took a few steps back as he craned his neck, staring up at the blazing white conflagration that showered the cave in dazzling bright light.

The dragon thrashed around, whirling and spinning uselessly in agony, but there was no escaping the flames as they surged deeper and deeper, feeding on the corruption within.

Braham, Rox, Kas and Jory all came closer toward him, all of the gazing at the blazing fire before them. The waves of white fire ceased only slowly and the dragon convulsed and shuddered, haunches giving in under its weight as it collapsed onto the sand with a thundering crash.

It didn't move any longer and the fire slowly ebbed away, revealing the carcass of the dragon's body that remained in its wake. There was the pungent smell of singed wood and burned leaves and as Tivon let his eyes wander over the Dragon's body he noticed it had sunken in, body completely blackened by soot and ash. Somme parts crumbled and fell to dust before them, and where the dragons eyes had been remained nothing but hallow sockets.

“That was amazing!”, Kas cheered, her voice so sudden it pierced through Tivon's reverie. He almost jumped when she hugged him.

“We did great.”, Tivon answered with a smile and hugged her back.

“That was some light show.”, Rox sheepishly mentioned beside him and Kas slowly took a step back, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Good thing I had my second chance.”, Braham grinned and clasped his gloved hands together. “I'm still burning from that fight. Is that all Mordremoth's got?”

“He's got the sylvari.”, Jory cut in, and among all the victorious joy, her rational comment brought them back from the temporary high of victory. Vail landed and dug his claws into Tivon's shoulder, Kota still clinging to his back. He realized they flocked toward him to _protect_ him, and under Jory's scrutinizing gaze he was infinitely grateful for his protective companions, even if he knew Jory would never harm him.

“We have to warn them.”, Tivon agreed and looked toward the passage that would lead them back to the Far Silverwastes. “We can-”

“They are already gone.”, Jory interjected once more, and the click of her greatsword as it fell into the scabbard on her back was deafeningly loud. Her eyes bored into him and Tivon met her gaze evenly.

“Jory.”, he began, but was not quite sure what he meant to say. Was it not obvious that he was no enemy? He understood she was wary, he really _did_ , but now he needed her trust more than ever. They needed to stick through this. Together. “I'm fine.”, he brought out a little lamely, and that seemed to dissatisfy her.

“Are you?”, she shot back. “Sylvari are minions to Mordremoth. You are meant to serve it. It all makes sense now. Scarlet, Aerin... _you_.” The last she said almost as a spat.

“Jory!”, Kas said aghast and lifted her hands in a pacifying manner to appease Jory. “Tiv isn't like that. You _know_ that.”

“Mordremoth _uses_ sylvari.”, Jory said and her voice only lost some of its edge. Her anger turned into uncertainty as her voice dropped and her gaze shifted. “I just don't know how to be sure.”

“I understand, Jory.”, Tivon murmured soothingly. If he was to show her that he was no enemy, that he was still _himself_ , if he was to appeal to their friendship and her _trust_ in him, he needed to show her that he was not only confident, but that he had _faith_. “I can't ask you to _believe_ me. I can't ask you to _trust_ me. We've known each other for some time now...so you can draw all conclusions that you must from your experiences. Whatever you decide I'll accept without complaint, but we can not keep going back and forth on this. We need to stick together if we want to best Mordremoth, and I _need_ you. I can not do this alone.”

“I'm with you.”, Braham said instantly, and Rox took a step closer toward him as well. Kas was looking at Jory with worry and uncertainty, supplicating with her eyes alone. Jory eased her weight onto one leg, the weight of her thoughts showing clearly behind her dark eyes.

“How can I be sure you're you?”, Jory asked and she sounded...tired. Not even angry. Just lost.

“Do you know what I saw before I struck the dragon?”, Tivon asked and stepped closer carefully. “Do you know what I felt?”

She shook her head, but she didn't back away.

“I saw _fear_.”, Tivon told her. “I _felt_ Mordremoth's terror. Why would an Elder Dragon have to be afraid of us, if we were not a threat? This is _our_ fight, Jory. Mordremoth is not a master – it is merely a creature with influence upon our mind, asking and demanding submission that it cannot force. I am not it's minion. We are it's enemy.”

“You're certain.”, Jory noticed and her eyes seemed softer now, but studying him still. For a moment their gaze held, the flicker of Rox's torch and the soft tingle and wavering of the tether connecting him an Braham the only light sources in the cavern, brushing and outlining their features. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. “Alright.”, she said. “I'll trust you, Tivon. But don't expect me to trust any others.”

“Thank you Jory.”, Tivon said and heard the sigh of relief from Kasmeer.

“ _You are mine.”_ , Mordremoth whispered. It was faint now, dim and in the far back of his head, and Tivon shook his head. 

“ _No.”,_ he answered. _“We are coming for you, Mordremoth.”_

The earth shuddered and Mordremoth roared somewhere in the far, far distance, stone reverberating and quivering. Tivon walked nonchalantly toward his staff and picked it up before he turned toward his friends who were gazing around warily, expecting another attack even though none would come.

When their gazes fell upon him he beckoned them to follow with a motion of his arm. “Come on.”, he said. “There's an Elder Dragon to be slain.”

“Heh.”, Braham grinned. “About spirit-damned time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So, did you like it? Did you not like it?
> 
> I struggled with the scene that transpired after Caithe left and the Shadow of the Dragon appeared. So I had two scenarios I thought played fairly well, the first one being that Tivon got hit so badly/pushed into a really bad situation that Braham had to charge in to rescue him.
> 
> Then I thought, why not amp it up? (the second scenario) And had Braham nearly die in an action of self-sacrifice, and Tivon, our wonderful druid healer managed to tap into the Celestial Avatar and rescue him with an epiphany dawning upon him when he realized he had saved Braham's life and felt his heartbeat under his fingertips.  
> I liked only the last bit (The heartbeat part) of that version, so I scratched it. Here are my reasons why:  
> -I felt that despite the long journey we have had with Braham and Tivon, making a quite so definite statement would be too early still, and I want to prolong any of that for a bit longer - simply because of the conflicts we all know are coming. (Derwen, mainly.)  
> \- I felt that Tivon has been the damsel in distress for too much time and for too many moments, especially 'convenient' moments where Braham can swoop in to save the day (or Tivon, in this case). Don't get me wrong, there will be more damsel moments, but this one felt...too cheesy.  
> \- Thirdly, pushing Tivon's healing ability to the point where he could bring someone back from the brink of death is amazing, but also deus ex machina style. He's had no teacher, nobody to tell him how to use his powers, and I find it hard to explain how he suddenly taps into such a large pool of power, especially using a skill that, imo, needs to be trained for at least a little amount of time until it can be harnessed. It felt too powerful, and any further battles to come after this would feel like: "Meh, Tivon can patch them up no problem."
> 
> So I had two choices:  
> 1\. Give the power a handicap. (E.g. it can only be used once and on a full moon or smth.)  
> 2\. Restrict the power to a single time use only. (And seriously, that's just lazy.)  
> So I rewrote the part into what it is now, and it feels...less deus ex machina than before. 
> 
> This is also why I would love to know what you think - because this time the chapter had me pondering for _days_.
> 
> Note to self: Watch less Captain America. The shield thing was inspired from there, if anyone is wondering.
> 
> Alright! Thanks for reading all this! See you in the comment section and then on Sunday!  
> Much love! <3


	45. Torn From the Sky: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> First of all I would like to apologize profusely for not answering to your comments yet. I have read all of them and I promise you, I have cherished them as I always do. You've made me very very happy with all the positive response that I am getting, and I plan on answering every single one of you in my normal orderly and detailed fashion, but such a process requires time, and up until now, I had to prioritize.  
> Instead of answering your comments on Friday, as I would have been able during my 7h + train ride, I wrote on the Living World to catch up with my chapters, and I am thrilled to tell you I have managed to produce two full-fledged, awesome chapters I can not wait for you guys to finally read.  
> As I am sitting on the train again right now I'll quickly post the chapter for "The Living World" and then for "The Moth and the Flame" and be on my way again to make sure I am in the lead again. If I manage this then there will be no need for the "1 Chapter per week" rule, so I hope you'll consent to my stringent plan. It's all for you guys, because you deserve nothing but the best.
> 
> Now, before I get all teary-eyed, let's move on to the chapters, shall we?

Sgileas stared out over the horizon tenuously, the far Silverwastes stretching down beneath them. The canyons lay far below as their airship flew through the air, a soft brush of wind caressing through the foliage atop his head.

“Nervous?”, Trahearne asked, and Sgileas glanced at the firstborn who stood beside him. Trahearne had his yellow eyes fixed toward their target that lay in the distance, arms folded in front of his chest. The leaves on Trahearne's head shifted softly in the breeze, but there was only the forced calm in Trahearne's features. Trepidation, uncertainty, fear. All that was hidden well enough that the others could not see, but Sgileas could read Trahearne better than anyone else – a fact that was most natural, considering their relationship, and something that he prided himself with. Only to himself, of course.

It was not only the _kind_ of enemy they were facing. They had fought an Elder dragon before and succeeded, but they knew better than to be assured this would be the very same, and Mordremoth's power over plants and minds was dangerous enough that it made them tentative and tenuous. 

“A little.”, Sgileas admitted. He would be lying if saying that attacking an Elder Dragon, wading into its territory with no idea what to expect left him calm. No. This was most disquieting, especially since now the Silverwastes slowly cradled and accrued with plants of green, large trees that reached as high as the canyons had with large clefs and fissures that looked barely noteworthy from up here, but Sgileas knew they were large and deep. “The silence is what unnerves me most.”

Trahearne nodded. The jungle beneath them, a deep sea of green and vegetation that had grown unchecked over many, many years, was not only vast enough to touch the edges of the horizon but also...quiet. It felt like they were being watched by a large pair of eyes, an enemy that scampered through the coppice and woodwork unseen. “It is disquieting.”, Trahearne admitted.

Even though Sgileas wanted to speak the words ' _It will be fine, we'll make it_ ' they were stuck in his throat. His bark was prickling with anxiety and tension and he tried to rewire his mind to accept that is was excitement instead – only to fail. The malaise crept under his skin sinking into the fibres deep within and planted a fear he'd not felt in a long, long time.

“Marshal, we have reached the checkpoint.”, the tactician said when he approached and Trahearne turned fully toward the tactician, lowering his arms beside his body. Sgileas knew that Trahearne meant to look confident and assured, to give the men and women under his command the impression he feared nothing at all.

“Halt the ships and ready the canons.”, Trahearne ordered and the tactician hurried along to relay the orders. The ship slowly came to a halt with a low thrumming noise from far below the deck before it came to a stand-still and hovered in the air. Sgileas glanced down once again, but there was no sign of life; only the soft bending of trees in the wind.

The other ships came to a halt as well, the sky filled with only the soft buzzing of motors and sails shifting. Sgileas let his eyes wander over them. Some were close enough he could make out faces of those that stood on the deck, others were scarcely dark spots on the horizon. The sun was raised high into the air announcing mid-day, and finally Sgileas turned away as well and stood beside Trahearne to ease the firstborn with his presence – and to do the very same for himself.

Something felt...off. It felt wrong that the jungle was almost dead below them, not a single sound or movement emitted as if the jungle itself was holding its breath. He wished he could pinpoint exactly what it was that bothered him, but the feeling in his gut remained the only foreboding indication.

Trahearne walked toward the peak of the ship with steady and sure stride and Sgileas followed him, the members of Destiny's Edge, all except Caithe, following not far behind. Trahearne raised his hand into the air and Sgileas could almost feel the sudden pressure adding onto his shoulders, as if the enemy had just taken a deep, drawn breath and held it.

“Fire!”, Trahearne yelled loudly, and the booming of missiles filled the air. Cascades and volleys descended into the ground and trees below, uprooting and splintering everything in their path. Earth scattered into the air and rose as a veil of dust, fires broke out beneath slowly catching and spreading with each new attack that rained.

Missile after missile landed in the land below, attacking an unseen foe. Were they even hitting  _anything?_ Were there even Mordrem in the Jungle as they had thought? Each blast came tenaciously and incessant, uprooting a new part of the jungle and the fires began to spread, but there was no cry from below, no movement at all.

Sgileas' hand clutched the scythe he'd drawn almost unconsciously. Even though nothing shifted below them, it was no innocent quiet. It was heavy, stifling,  _malign._ Something was  _wrong_ . It was...it was  _wrong_ .

“Trahearne-”, Sgileas began and the firstborn turned around toward him, and the moment the yellow eyes met his there was a sudden jerk, the ship jolted forward and yelp of surprise filled the air, soon to turn into those of terror. Sgileas whirled around, eyes trailing over the horizon where he saw that one of the ships was in flames, fires of red and yellow brushing over the sails and consuming it completely.

There was a booming noise, the sound of crunching trees and wood and the ground below them seemed to ache when curled and twisted vines shot from the canopy below, sharp tips piercing into the ships from beneath. One ship was entirely torn apart by the strike from such a vine, two halves of the ship splintering apart and slowly drifting from the sky toward the ground, and one after another the vines shot from below, barraging from beneath and impaling the ships where they hovered.

The  _Glory of Tyria_ shook when such an attack bored into the ship and the deck broke open with a thundering noise as if the metal was nothing but butter. An explosion rippled through the air when the drive was damaged and Zojja was already rushing toward the console when she suddenly came to a standstill, her staff raised into the air.

There was a loud  _roar_ . A roar that reverberated through metal and body alike, that shook fibre and skin. It echoed over the jungle and spread over the air with such loud intensity that Sgileas felt as if he'd been knocked in the head and he stumbled backwards with a gasp. 

“ _It's time to come home.”_ , a loud, booming voice announced and Sgileas panted heavily when his mind muddled and hazed, his eyes became blurry and he felt himself being pulled out and away, control slipping from his fingertips. A headache thrummed over his scalp reaching even toward his eyes as if a sharp knife trailed a thin line and bored inside.

Someone pulled sharply at his arm and he had not noticed that he had hunched forward, hands lifted and fingers scraping into the side of his skull. Fires illuminated the deck before him in a dancing sea of red and he blinked up at Trahearne who looked as tormented as Sgileas felt, but there was determination in the firstborn's features.

“It's the Dragon.”, Trahearne called. “Fight it. It aims to possess us.”

Sgileas understood, he did, but it was... _By the Pale Tree_ , it felt as if a fist had clenched around his throat, his body, his  _mind_ , and the promise of release was only if he let go. The headache turned into a burst of agony and he cried out, knees buckling under his weight.

Trahearne caught him despite the fact that the ship trembled underneath their feet unsteadily and pulled him closer. “Don't let it consume you.”, Trahearne whispered near his ear in desperation. “Stay with me.”

_Stay._

Sgileas took a deep, shacking breath. One. Then two.

_Stay with me._

He would not give into the call. He would not give the Elder Dragon that kind of satisfaction. He was stronger than that – stronger than to succumb to something like this.

There was a short moment where the pain remained, where the headache thrummed through his head in a pulse that was similar to the boiling of water before everything calmed and quieted, to remain as nothing but a phantom, but it was _there_. An enemy waiting in the shadows to strike.

Sgileas blinked up at Trahearne and the firstborn gazed over his features tenuously, but Sgileas grasped his hand to reassure him. “I'm fine.”, he breathed and Trahearne sighed a breath of relief, tension falling from his shoulders like leaves in fall.

The deck shook dangerously and Sgileas turned his head around, but he barely recognized anything. The sky was aflame, shipwrecks descending toward the ground in aching slowness to break below. Smoke filled the air with chocking intensity and Sgileas' eyes began to water, but even through the blur he could see why there were sounds of fighting _atop_ the deck.

A swarm of sylvari poured from the steps that lead below, raging and mad with a war-cry on their lips. They had their weapons raised and attacked all those that had been their comrades not moments ago – moments before the _Call._

Destiny's edge held on bravely, cutting down the sylvari as they attempted to push them back, and Sgileas splayed his fingers over the scythe he'd dropped and stood, squeezing Trahearne's arm tightly with his other hand.

“Hold them back!”, Trahearne called, and even now he tried to keep the trepidation away from showing in his features, even as everything begun to fall apart.

Sgileas gave him once last glance before he entered the fray. With a large motion fuelled by both the frustration and anger at the agony he'd felt and the corruption the Elder Dragon spread over the Pact, he fuelled his scythe with dark magic. As he sliced forward a phantom blade of darkness cut a path forward, reaching any that were unfortunate enough to travel in its path, but the attacking sylvari showed no fear and no hesitation.

They were crazed, a fearless diligence that was unnatural. They'd given themselves up to the call, and Sgileas did not give himself the time to ponder if any of them could be saved. He needed to save those who were on his side still.

A pact soldier – a human – stared at him fearfully for a moment before Sgileas gestured toward the sylvari. “Come on!”, he called, and saw the man sigh a breath of relief that the Commander was on their side still. Sgileas was sure the tide of the battle had been entirely different, then.

However hard they pushed back, the sylvari were in a frenzy that equalled blood-lust. They remained on their feet with even the most gruesome and abominable wounds, subservient to a will that was not their own. There was only one way to stop them; to either maim them until no limb was able to move or cut off their heads, which was easier said then done.

What kind of manacle did Mordremoth put on them? Their attacks and numbers seemed incessant, and Sgileas knew why. After the attack on the Pale Tree, many sylvari had risen to join the Pact in their anger to beat Mordremoth and exact revenge – and now Sgileas was left to wonder if that had been Mordremoth's plan all along.

To have the sylvari come to _it_.

The sylvari overwhelmed them and pushed them back toward the peak, the sails of _The Glory of Tyria_ set alight and in flames, and slowly the drive ceased to thrum beneath their feet and came to a halt. For a moment longer the ship floated before slowly it began to tilt to the side and sink down from the sky, the ground rising to meet them.

Gravity was working against them now and Sgileas grit his teeth when he feet slipped from the angle, the deck angling down toward the ground. Eir was beside him pulling arrow after arrow, and Garm was only to be seen between the sylvari once the wolf fledged its teeth into fibre.

Fireballs and lightning sizzled past Sgileas, electrocuting the enemies with a flash and flare of chain lightning, and among the sylvari he saw that Trahearne had risen minions from the corpses to serve his will and even their numbers, but the force was overwhelming still.

Logan was at the front line with him, shield and sword raised and already bloodied with golden sap. The human looked determined to fight on and pushed the approaching forces back with a shield of absorption, but the loud cry that pierced through the air from behind them made them turn around.

Zojja was fighting with a sylvari who mercilessly struck at her and pushed her back. She was pressed against the railing, her eyes blown wide from fear, fingers curled tightly around the staff she had lifted to block the blow of the sword. Logan's feet hammered on the deck as he rushed back and Sgileas tried to hold back the sylvari by himself and he might have stood a chance had he been given the chance to cast a well or perhaps summon minions of his own – but in between the scything strikes and the circling motions he barely had time to _dodge_ , much less cast.

Logan made a surprised noise behind him and Sgileas saw from the corner of his eyes that the sylvari had pushed through and in over the side, one of the warrior bashing its shield into Logan's side. The Guardian stood protectively in front of Zojja and was pushed back, and the force of the strike made their bodies collide with the railing and it gave way with a screeching noise.

The two bodies flailed and fell and Sgileas let out a frustrated cry that fuelled into his next strike. Eir had drawn her sword instead, the arrows all spent, and Garm was no where to be seen. Trahearne was behind them still, casting whenever he could, but now that the minions pushed through there was no time for more powerful spells – only the time to defend himself.

Sgileas' body was laced with cuts, bruises and open wounds that stung sharply, but he ignored them all. He begun to spin on his own axis, scythe extended when a sword blocked the motion and made him come to a halt abruptly. He lifted his scythe but instead of a strike a shield rammed into him, pushing him back. He stumbled and felt the cool metal of the railing press into him and gripped it with his one free hand as the ship tilted even more sharply. Eir barely managed to stay on her feet and the some of the sylvari tumbled back, others falling from the ship entirely.

The sylvari that had attacked Sgileas was on him still, shield pressed tightly against him, and Sgileas pushed back ferociously and grit teeth when the _Glory of Tyria_ shook once again, the ground trembling beneath their feet and a large vine burrowed through the deck from below, breaking it open just a feet away from him.

The force pushed him back, the metal gave in and the railing bottomed out behind him. The sylvari warrior slipped over the side with flailing limbs and fell first with a cry and Sgileas attempted to grasp another part of the railing and his hand found purchase on a protruding piece of metal that cut deeply into his hand just moments before his legs jolted and dangled in the air, gravity pulling him toward the ground beneath.

He held his scythe only for a moment longer before he let it fall and descend into the sea of trees and fire below and tried to reach up with his other hand, panting heavily at the exertion. Inches away from the railing he suddenly saw a flash of yellow among the smoke that lifted into the air and then realized it was Trahearne.

The firstborn reached out toward him, hand stretching over the railing and fingers splayed and Sgileas tried to pull himself up and reach for Trahearne's hand for what felt like an agonizing minute, but it was scarcely the stretch of a single second.

Their fingertips brushed and Sgileas met his eyes, sinking into the moment. The sounds seemed to fade, the trembling of his arms and legs seemed to cease, the fact they were losing was not quite that important. “Trahearne...”, he began, biting out the word at the strain, and the firstborn shook his head vehemently as if he knew what Sgileas was going to say.

“Grab my hand.”, Trahearne said with desperation and Sgileas _tried,_ he really did, fingertips shacking and stretching almost painfully when suddenly Trahearne let out a surprised noise and a sylvari appeared behind the firstborn and Trahearne turned around, raising his sceptre just in time to block the sword's blow. The firstborn's back leaned over the railing in a curvaceous arc, arms drawn tightly toward his chest and trembling to summon the strength when another sylvari appeared, eyes gleaming a deep, dark red that met the purple of Sgileas.

He opened his mouth, was not even sure what he meant to say, his eyes widened a fraction when the sylvari lifted a sword and with only one slice of the blade, the sylvari cut through the railing Sgileas was still holding on to. The metal screeched, broke, cracked and then gave in under his weight.

For a moment he felt weightless before his stomach bottomed out and he fell below, arm stretched out far over his head, but even though he opened his mouth no words would come, not even a scream. He saw Trahearne fighting off the sylvari, he saw the _Glory of Tyria_ still descending down from the sky, he saw the sky was alight with fire and smoke, felt the heavy rush of air as his robe fluttered around his body tightly, then something brushed his arms, legs, sea of green and dark covered and blurred at the edge of his vision, something crashed into his back and shattered through him and he felt something _fracture_ deep inside before the impact with the ground took him completely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers are a pain in the bum, I know, and I apologize. When I wrote this chapter like two weeks ago I wrote it with heart-ache and life-blood, and I remember asking for a hug which I was promptly granted. (Thanks, Lamshire <3) I hope now you understand why. Separating the two is one of the hardest thing as an author that I had to do, and you can only imagine what kind of agony it will be for Sgileas to wake into a world that is torn apart and his love is missing. If you can't: bless you, and I wish it never happens to you. It's awful, and the uncertainty can do the strangest things to your mind.  
> Now bear with me till Wednesday! Yes, I'll post a chapter then, and _that_ is a promise.


	46. Torn From the Sky: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Just quickly updating before I fly off again!  
> Firstly, when we go into HoT, you'll notice soon enough that I will be taking on different points of views as we tag along with the group, which is why most chapters will have exceeding length and be split into parts. This chapter right here is rather short, but no rule without exceptions, eh?

“What?”, Tivon said disbelievingly, and the female norn in front of him looked at him with an annoyed, pointed stare, her whole aura full of impatience that had scarcely anything to do with his inane questioning.

“The fleet is gone.”, she said once again, and even though Tivon heard it a second time it didn't really compute. “Mordremoth wiped out the entire Pact fleet.”

“How?”, Tivon breathed, but the woman was turning away, lifting a wooden crate into her arms with a huff.

“We're still salvaging what's left.”, she replied grumpily and left them to stand in the Red Rock Bastion, a lazy warm gust brushing over the sand in a gesture of empty calm.

There was a nervous chirp from below and Tivon gave Frostbite a glance. The Devourer looked uncertain and afraid, and Kota snuggled up closer toward him, offering what little comfort he could.

“The news has...Frostbite a little anxious.”, Rox murmured in explanation, but she looked no less anxious than Frostbite did. If it was possible, she looked even _more_ worried as her green eyes studied the Devourer. “I mean, because Destiny's Edge was on board. I hope they're okay...”

“I'm with Frostbite. “, Braham said, voice deep and blue eyes staring out toward the horizon. “The Commander, Destiny's Edge, and airships killed Zhaitan...how did it go so wrong this time?” It sounded almost like an accusation.

“We'll head to Amber Sandfall and see for ourselves.”, Tivon suggested and glanced sideways when he saw the flicker of something white and golden. Kas came back toward the group, having spoken to one of the Pact members for information concerning Caithe and the egg. As Tivon glanced over the Pact members he noticed how distraught and disquieted they all looked, as if by one strike all hope had suddenly be taken from the world.

“I verified that Caithe has been through here in the last day or so. Sorry I can't give you more.” She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She too was not taking the news very well.

Tivon took a deep breath. “We'll get the egg back, but right now our top priority is Mordremoth.”

“Good.”, Jory said and her face was even more determined than before. She nearly seethed out the next words. “First my sister, then the Zephyrite Masters, now the Pact fleet. Mordremoth has to be stopped. For good.”

Tivon only nodded and lead them through the Silverwastes toward Amber Sandfall where he knew a passage lead into a cave toward the jungle beyond. It was a disquieting journey and with each step it felt as though the weight atop them magnified, slowly baring them down. He lifted his hand to push away ferns that covered the passage and the cave opened before them, small and smelling of the torches and the oil used to keep the flame going.

The torches flickered as they entered, a small slope leading upwards toward the right, and standing there near the rise stood two figures of which one he recognized immediately, mainly because it was a large, magitech golem.

“Taimi?”, Tivon said and the golem turned, revealing the small asuran child in the small chamber that was Scruffy's head.

“Hey, Tiv! Rata Sum was all abuzz over the Pact Fleet disaster. I knew you'd get involved, so I came to pitch in.”, she chirped, sounding all-too happy for a situation like this. “Scruffy and I gave these locals a lesson in Mordrem bashing while we waited for you. Oh, and Canach helped, too.” She added the last bit when she noticed that Canach was glaring at her, but her statement only managed to make him squint his eyes further.

“Yes...I "helped."”, the secondborn grumbled. “And I thought the Firstborn were full of themselves.” He said the last part more to himself before he turned fully to Tivon. “Countess Anise sent me to support you and represent the Shining Blade in the fight against Mordremoth. Seeing as the Commander and the Pact Marshal are MIA, you are the next best option.” Tivon was not sure if he was meant to feel flattered or not. “The jungle won't contain Mordremoth for long. Mordrem incursions are already happening as far away as Diessa Plateau. I also have an obvious personal stake in defeating the jungle dragon. In any case, I am at your disposal.”

Tivon nodded slowly. It had been a long time since he had seen Canach, but there was no reason to distrust the warrior, not when the stakes were quite so high, and most certainly not with an Elder Dragon aiming to control them. “Glad to have you both aboard. We're going to need all the help we can get.” Tivon steeled himself, trying not to imagine what he would see next. “Let's move out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've made it! It really wasn't long, sorry. There will be more, and they will be lengthy, so stay tuned! Oh, and prepare for some angst and drama. Just...you know. Heads up, people :D


	47. Torn from the Sky: Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! I am sorry for the delay, but I still have about twenty minutes of the day left, so, yeah, right on schedule! As the universe has it, one problem seldom comes alone, so let me explain what happened.  
> During my last writing session my trusted program "Open Office" refused to work and cooperate, simply closing whenever it wanted and leaving me with barely five seconds to write a single thing, much less save it. I haven't lost any of my works, so no worries - but I had to look around and search for another program. I've found something I am currently testing and its amazing, but it will take much more work to get properly into, so bear with me.  
> In addition, I had a bit of a low today, feeling no energy to keep up with my schedule regarding my studies - and I managed to force myself to do it somehow. Thankfully my work is saved, I can write, and I seem to be back on track.  
> Oh, one more thing before you read this monster of a chapter (Like, woah, is it really that long?) I will reply to all your comments tomorrow morning (aka in about 8-10hours) in my normal thorough fashion.  
> Without further ado, here you go!

The passage was filled and adhered with vines that shriveled and wilted under Tivon's nature magic. Thorns and brambles covered their heads, filtering most of the sunlight even though it had to be noon already, and it was when Tivon took the final wall of vines down with a shift of his wrist that they all stood rooted in place.

By the Pale Tree.

In front of them was a slope leading to an advance and beyond was nothing but a drop of over a hundred feet, ending in a pitch-black darkness. Tivon stepped closer, heeding to Rox's “Careful.” as he glanced down into the ravine below. It was, however, not the abyss below that had given them a reason to pause.

His eyes followed the cliffsides, up toward a vine that was broader than even the trunk of the Pale Tree and he had to crane his neck to see the reasons why and how the Pact fleet had been defeated.

Above their heads the large, thick vines that came from the blackness below had curled around the Pact's airships, tightened their hold to the point where they had either shattered the ships under the force, breaking them apart like wooden toys, or the ships were held in place in a prison from which there was no escape.

“Oh, gods…so much wreckage.”, Kasmeer gasped and her eyes widened, her fingers tightening their hold on the wooden staff in her hand. Her fingers seemed to tremble as if she would lose hold soon.

Tivon could smell singed fabric and smoke in the air and in the distance rose clouds of dark pillars into the sky. Fires were continuously blazing across the ships and vines, and when Tivon looked more closely he could see that the large vines seemed alive…to pulse with a steady, thrumming beat like that of a heart.

“I was expecting carnage, but this…Mordremoth actually took down the entire fleet.”, Rox murmured, her eyes scanning over the debris much calmer than Kas did. Frostbite beside her gave a curious chitter, clearly oblivious to what was transpiring.

Tivon didn't know what to think…much less what to say. The entire Pact fleet…gone. With one swipe Mordremoth had taken them all out. Trahearne, Sgileas…they were somewhere deep within this jungle, most likely dead, and the remaining Pact lay in ruins.

Shattered and broken as the pieces of carnage that flamed above their heads.

Vail circled above his head and gave one caw before spiraling down and landing on his shoulder. Tivon wished he did not know what the raven was saying, but he did. "It is even worse from up there.", the Raven said without words. "The disaster stretches out toward the horizon."

"By the Pale Tree.", Tivon murmured and glanced down when Kota nuzzled closer to his leg in an attempt to comfort him.

“Spirits…could anyone have survived?”, Braham asked, his heavy boots crunching on the ground as he stepped beside Tivon. The Norn's eyes wandered to the side with scrutinizing intensity before his eyes widened. “We need to get down there. Fast.”, Braham insisted, and without another word, Braham dashed down the advance toward the slope at the side of the cliff.

“Braham!”, Tivon called out and turned in surprise.

“I see a camp…and a camp means survivors. Let's go!”, Braham yelled back, was running downhill toward the slope and took the bend to the right toward the wreckage Tivon had seen below - only now did he see the fires too, as well as the figures silhouetted against the rock and the metal they had used to protect themselves from view. His feet moved long before any of the others did, and Vail cawed in annoyance and took off into the air, sailing down toward the camp.

Tivon didn't manage to catch up with Braham until the norn had already barged into the camp, and the Pact members looked up at them startled, fear and wear written clearly in their features. Soot and ash covered their skin, eyes dulled and dazed by the many gruesome and terrible things they had seen.

“I'm Eir Stegalkin's son. I want to know where she is.”, Braham demanded from Laranthir, who was surrounded by other Pact members. Tivon only recognized Laranthir because he was one of the secondborn and well renowned in the Pact - and he'd seen him with Trahearne and Sgileas.

“Braham!”, Tivon said again, and only this time did Braham turn around, blue eyes flashing with annoyance. “You mustn't run off like that. We're in enemy territory.”

Braham looked away, and Tivon felt as if he'd been slapped by the dismissing gesture before a voice in his head cut in, “His mother is missing, you idiot.”

He lifted his hand to touch Braham's upper arm, changing his approach. “We'll find her.”, Tivon tried to soothe, and at last Braham seemed to relax somewhat, but still refused to look down at him.

Laranthir and the others watched for a few seconds before Tivon shifted his gaze from Braham to Laranthir. “My name is Tivon.”, Tivon introduced himself and retracted his hand from Braham's arm. “These are Braham, Rox, Kas, Jory, Canach and Taimi. We've come to help with..”, he trailed off and gestured with his other arm around them. “What happened here?”

“Hello, Tivon.” Laranthir greeted blandly, but somehow there was an edge to his voice Tivon could not help but think was somehow connected to the various weapons that pointed at Laranthir and the sylvari behind him. “The situation is grim. Mordremoth tore the fleet apart. The Pact is in ruins. Trahearne, the Commander and Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner…they were alive, but now MIA.” He cast the other Pact members a glance before he added. “And the remaining soldiers no longer trust me.”

“You're surprised?”, Jory cut in, voice sharper than steel. “Scarlet, Aerin, and now this. Mordremoth always uses sylvari to do its dirtiest dirty work.”

“Don't you dare-”, the sylvari behind Laranthir began and stepped forward, but Laranthir lifted his hand and splayed his fingers against the sylvari's chest, pushing him back gently but firmly.

“Xenos, don't.”, Laranthir said, voice low and supplicating. “This isn't helping.”

“They don't trust us anyhow.”, the sylvari named Xenos argued hotly. “Look at them. They would much rather just kill us. I know the look of these kinds of eyes.”

“We must work together.”, Laranthir insisted evenly, and his dark onyx eyes bored into those of Xenos'. For a moment their gaze held, dark red eyes glinting with anger before Xenos relented and leaned back.

“Fine.”, Xenos grumbled out as he stepped down, and Laranthir gave an appreciative nod toward the warrior before he turned back to Tivon.

“I am sorry for this mess… It will take time to salvage what is left.”, Laranthir apologized to Tivon, even though he saw no reason that the secondborn should. Faced with such scrutiny and the manner of distrust it was a miracle the secondborn held up as strongly as he did.

“We need to strengthen the defenses around here.”, a charr scholar interjected. “Our priority has to be salvaging weapon parts from the crash site.”

“What about our comrades in the cavern?”, Laranthir asked disbelievingly. “The Pact does not abandon its own.”

Explorer Metella spat on the ground. “Look around, "sir." There is no more Pact. And the prisoners you want to save are probably already dead.”

“Think it through, soldier.”, Laranthir appeased with a calm Tivon could only admire. Jory's distrust had been nothing in comparison to this. “We need greater numbers or any salvage party we send will disappear like the others.”

“This isn't helping.”, Braham said with a groan. “Just tell us where Destiny's Edge is. Please.”

And suddenly, Tivon found all eyes were on him.

He blinked for a moment before he realized that they had all collectively placed their trust in his decision and that it was up to him even though he was neither Pact nor Vigil or part of any other organization. There was no room to question the authority placed into his palms, even though he felt trepidation creep up his spine when the responsibilities colored themselves in his thoughts.

“What do you think?”, Tivon asked Rox, and she shifted uncomfortably, her eyes looking up at Braham sheepishly.

“Let's focus on protecting the soldiers we still have. I say we scare up some turret parts to defend this position.”

“Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner, too. Rescuing Laranthir's soldiers might help us pick up the trail.”, Braham argued.

“Laranthir's right this time: we have to rescue the Pact prisoners. It's both logical and our duty.”, a Pact Crusader asura cut in.

An agent brought in, “We need supplies and salvage to build up this position, or we're all gonna die.”

“Alright.”, Tivon said before more voices could rise, and they all grew quiet. His head churned and he regarded Braham for a moment, but his decision was made long before he met the crystal blue eyes. “We'll rescue the prisoners.”, Tivon decided and then turned his gaze to Laranthir. “Is there anything you can tell us?”

“The Mordrem could have killed them, but instead took them alive. Mordremoth must want them that way. I shudder to think why.”

“Have you mustered any sort of rescue party?”

“I wasn't able to.”, Laranthir murmured in dismay. ”My troops refuse to risk their lives following my orders, especially since these prisoners are all sylvari. They fear I'm leading them into a trap.”

Xenos grumbled something under his breath Tivon didn't catch, but Laranthir gave the sylvari a pointed stare. Xenos only shrugged.

“We'll look for them.”, Tivon offered and then looked around, trying to meet as many eyes as he could. “Any of you who is willing to follow us can tag along.”

Tivon was about to turn away when the charr scholar spoke once again. “It's not worth risking more lives to save sylvari prisoners. They're already gone. Sylvari belong to Mordremoth.”

“You're a fool.”, Canach said coldly, and Tivon grasped his staff from his back gingerly in case the situation escalated and he needed to intervene. “Only weak-willed sylvari are vulnerable. The rest of us…myself and this sprout here especially…fight back.”

Tivon tried not to give Canach a look at the nickname. “He's right. Mordremoth wants us to turn on each other.”, Tivon reasoned as softly as he could.

Explorer Metella only snarled at him. “Who says you're not the enemy? Gunnard, Gatt: come on. We're better off on our own.”

Crusader Gatt, the asura, shook his head defiantly, long ears flapping slightly. “Count me out of your tiny mutiny. My duty is to my fellow soldiers. I'm staying.”

“It's your funeral. This camp won't last another night.”, Metella said, and it seemed almost a threat. “Good luck - you're going to need it.” With that she and a norn left the camp, heading up toward the slope the way Tivon and his friend had come, disappearing in the distance and from sight.

“By the Pale Tree.”, Tivon breathed, unable to contain the sheer weight of this volcano of conflicts. Just one push would be enough and everything would come blowing up around them. He took another breath to steady himself when he noticed the eyes were on him again, and he wondered how the Commander had done everything quite so naturally. Sgileas had made leading look easy. This wasn't easy at all. “Let's form up and head out.”, he gulped and gave Laranthir one last glance before he exited the camp.

 

* * *

 

His steps seemed almost deafeningly loud in his own ears, his mind still attempting to digest the thoughts cruising through his mind. The group behind him was quiet and despite his hopes that more would come to join him, it was him, his friends and the Crusader Gatt who tagged along. Laranthir and Xenos were at the rear, and Tivon imagined that the remaining Pact members in the camp breathed a sigh of relief that all sylvari were gone.

Laranthir quickened his pace and walked abreast with him and Tivon wondered if the mantle of responsibility was temporary, or if somehow he was meant to keep it. It felt a burden too heavy for him to take on. “Their distrust is only natural.”, Laranthir murmured, his voice soft and not breaking through the silence. “There was the Call and all the sylvari turned against their comrades. Some of us managed to fight back, but…”

“I barely even heard it.”, Tivon murmured. Had he been too far away? Was the distance that great a factor? By the Pale Tree, they had given Mordremoth an army by flying overhead.

Laranthir nodded. “Its call is stronger here. You must be resistant and vigilant.” The secondborn cast a glance behind him toward Tivon's friends. “But I see you are in good hands.”

Tivon wanted to say “They trust me.”, but the words left a hallow, bitter taste atop the tip of his tongue and he could not bear to say them. “What happened to Trahearne and Sgileas?”, Tivon continued to ask a bit tenuously.

“I'm afraid I don't know.”, Laranthir murmured, his onyx eyes trailing over the path ahead. “They resisted the call and fought the sylvari that did not, but everything else remains a mystery.”

“It was chaotic up there.”, Xenos interjected, and Tivon startled slightly at the warrior's sudden appearance. “Imagine standing quite peacefully when suddenly everything blows apart and everyone tries to kill you.”

Laranthir gave an exasperated sigh. “I am sure Tivon has the insight to keep his vivid imagination to himself, unlike you.”

“I pride myself in that, so, you know, thank you.”

Tivon didn't quite understand, but somehow he was glad he did not. From the rear he heard Taimi's voice. “Don't look so worried, Braham. Eir can take care of herself. As a wise old genius once said-“

“Thanks, Taimi, but go easy on the asura wisdom for now.”, Braham cut her off. “I'm a little preoccupied.”, Braham finished, his eyes glaring sternly ahead, and when Tivon turned to look their eyes met.

Tivon wanted to ask if there was something he could do and if perhaps there was a thing to say, but whatever words he possessed - none of them seemed enough, and he averted his gaze and turned back around. “Do you have any idea why Mordremoth is taking prisoners?”, he asked Laranthir instead.

“I do not.”, Laranthir answered as they reached a small staircase that lead down into a dark tunnel, and across the side was blood and sap. Tivon and Rox moved almost in unison and knelt down to inspect it, and beside them Frostbite and Kota both skittered closer, eagerly inspecting the spots of glittering, dried gold.

“Blood, but no bodies.”, Tivon murmured.

“Not a good sign.”, Rox finished and lifted her bow from her shoulder In a smooth movement, the leather of her Jerkin rustling softly. “Let's tread carefully. They've been taken this way.” She nodded down the stairs and Tivon followed the direction of her gesture before he slowly rose, the staff at his side and ready to strike when he slowly descended down the stairs.

The darkness of the tunnel settled over them in a cool shadow, the smell of mold reaching his nose pungently. The sides were wet and slippery, water cascading down in sprinkles and pattering softly. Tivon found it odd that stairs were found in a place such as this. What or who had made them? What or who had used them? Was it far-fetched to believe that a civilization could have lived here and had been pushed out by Mordremoth's awakening, or some other occurrence?

He almost jumped when a large hand curled around his bicep and he stilled, eyes staring up at Braham who was broad enough to fill the whole tunnel, everyone behind them nearly barrelling into the norn when Braham came to an abrupt halt. “Let me go first.”, Braham insisted, and even in the darkness the clear blue of his eyes seemed to sparkle.

At first, Tivon wanted to argue. “You're emotionally compromised, are you sure?”, but he bit it back. Braham had always been at the front, and Tivon had always been behind him, watching his back. So Tivon squeezed against the side of the tunnel and Braham brushed past, warm skin caressing over the leaves covering Tivon's body, and the hand on his bicep uncurled last.

It was plaguing to see Braham so focused with a mixture of anxiety. Tivon could not imagine the level of uncertainty that churned in the Norn's head, and he wished he could make the promise that they would find Eir alive, but saying that would only be a delusion.

Braham's broad shoulders concealed any view on what awaited them below, but as soon as Braham stepped into the light and atop grass, the soft burble of a small stream filling Tivon's ears, the peace and quiet was broken when Braham lifted his shield and Tivon ducked reflexively, and arrow bouncing off the metal with a chuck.

“Stop them! Keep them away from the cages!”, a distorted voice cried loudly and Tivon blinked up against the brightness of the sun. The stream parted the small gorge in two, and on the other side was another staircase that winded around the side of the canyon and upward, leading to somewhere out of sight. Atop the stairs stood two creature Tivon didn't recognize, but they reminded him of Mordrem.

They had large, angular heads and broad bodies that were formed by bark and vines alone, their eyes glowing sockets in their branched skulls. They wielded weapons of similar nature; bows made from entwined branches and the string made from a vine, the other wielding two daggers that looked like thorns.

Braham charged forward and Tivon lifted his hand, tethering himself to the norn once again when a blue corona lifted over their heads, filling the air with an electric, soft hum. The next arrow met the Shield of Absorption in a most satisfying sloshing noise and disappeared, nullified by Braham's magic.

The Mordrem with the bow cursed something with its distorted vocals and then made a strangled noise when Rox's arrow hit its mark, felling the creature with an arrow through the throat. The Mordrem fell backward, body crunching upon impact, and the other Mordrem watched its comrade fall and then glanced at Braham charging up the stairs.

The Mordrem jumped from the stairs down into the stream, vaulting forward with a surprising amount of agility, and stood with two daggers in hand, striking and lashing out at where Rox and Tivon stood abreast.

Rox jumped back, but Tivon blocked the blow of the daggers with his staff and pushed the Mordrem back with a successive kick to the stomach. The Mordrem stumbled backward, water splashing at its feet when Tivon lifted his staff, spun it over his head and let the shaft collide with the Mordrem's head, earning a loud creaking noise as the skull broke apart.

The body slumped to the floor without another incident and they all took a moment to take a deep breath when a voice cut through.

“Can anyone hear me? We're up here!”, a voice called and Braham, who still stood on the stairs having contemplated whether to jump down or not, was now dashing up the stairs, taking two and three steps at the same time.

Tivon rushed forward, jumping over the stream nimbly and placed his hand atop the rock, bringing his legs over the side onto the stairs and dashed after Braham. The Norn's back disappeared over the ledge, flaming red hair hidden by a tuft of grass and Tivon took two steps, three, before he finally reached the top.

Barely even out of breath he followed the pull of the tether toward where Braham was charging off into a group of Mordrem, swinging his mace in a near-frenzy. The weapon was followed by a stream of blue light that arced after the mace, and with a nasty shield bash, Braham sent the next Mordrem to stumble back a couple of steps.

Tivon swung his staff upward, summoning vines that shot out from the ground beneath their feet to entangle with the remaining Mordrem guards, and Braham jumped into the air as if he'd known Tivon would cast this spell, his mace hitting the trapped Mordrem with a forceful swing that made the Mordrem splinter into thousand pieces of coppice.

The other Mordrem suffered the same fate - trapped by Tivon vines as Braham smashed them to pieces, and only when the last fell did the others finally converge with them. “Get us out of here!”, a voice called and Tivon glanced around and noticed the large bulbs of green that were formed by entwining vines and branches, building small prisons. In between the leaks he could see the trapped prisoners inside, and before he could attempt to lift his staff Jory had already lifted her greatsword, cutting cleanly through the coppice

“I knew someone would come for us. Thanks!”, the sylvari cheered, and Tivon felt as if a wedge had been pushed into his chest. He didn't have the heart to mention - and he never would to anyone - that the topic of their rescue had been a decision, and not mandatory.

The others were freed in a combined effort, but there was no sign of Eir or any of the other members of Destiny's Edge - and no sign of Trahearne and Sgileas either. Tivon approached a cage they had torn down and inspected it more closely, staring down at the tangled parts of vines and branches that had knotted tightly together to form the prison.

What was the point of them? Why was Mordremoth collecting prisoners? Was it to convert those that it could not by mind? To somehow force the process to become Mordrem? Was that possible?

A shudder went over his spine. He hoped that was not the case. “Glad you're alive.", Gatt's voice broke through from somewhere behind him, but he did not turn around. "We feared the worst when you went missing. What went on here?”

“Mordremoth's forces overpowered us.", one of the Pale Reavers answered. "They locked us up here, with corpses from the crash site. They took the others south to-”

There was a thud behind Tivon and he whirled around - and found himself face to face with a Mordrem that loomed over him, yellow gleaming eyes glaring down at him. Close up they looked even less sylvari than Tivon had thought at first. Their forms and shapes were unrefined, there was little humanoid resemblance in either body structure or the face. It was molded after an abstract image of humanoids perhaps - with little care for detail.

The Mordrem's eyes were wide, large orbs that seemed to burn into Tivon's head. “So nice of you to come to us.”, the Mordrem said, and Tivon thought he saw the flash of rotten, thorny teeth.

Then, two things transpired at once. The Mordrem lifted its arm, hand shooting out toward Tivon's throat, and Tivon would have easily dislodged the grip before it even latched on his throat were it not for the sudden booming voice that rippled through his head and skull.

"This world is mine.", Mordremoth proclaimed and Tivon gasped, his hand twitching just for a split second in its movement to block the blow, but that instant was enough. The hand curled around his throat tightly, fingers squeezing in around his neck and his body was lifted off the ground with a jerk.

His feet dangled in the air and he grasped the Mordrem's arm, fingers digging into bark when the Mordrem's eyes fixed on something behind him. The Mordrem flung Tivon to the side and he flew a couple of meters before his body slithered across the hardened and parched floor, scraping over his skin.

Tivon coughed, trying to catch his breath when he lifted his gaze and saw that just a few feet ahead of him, a large Mordrem slowly climbed from the roots and the ground, forming from Mordremoth's corrupting magic momentarily. Thorns and brambles entwined fluidly, forming a face and chest and limbs until the Mordrem built itself up in front of him full force.

It was larger than the others - much larger - and Tivon stumbled to his feet, his own fingers caressing over the still irritated bark over his neck. He could still feel the tight grip around it as if the fingers had never left, and his airpipe seemed to remember all too well - granting him barely any respite to catch his breath.

“Welcome, fodder.”, the Mordrem greeted him, and Tivon fought the shiver that went through him like an autumn wind. “Mordremoth has plans for you all…”

“Oh yeah?!”, Braham's voice cut through with a roar, and just as the Mordrem turned its head to look sideways Braham jumped into the air, striking with his mace at the Mordrem's head. The tether between them sparkled at the contact, a fork of white light sizzling like an electric current, and Braham's heavy boots landed with a thud on the ground in front of him.

The strike had broken part of the Mordrem's jaw away, and it now turned its head with a menacing glare at where Braham stood.

“There is no escape, Keeper. You will all serve the Jungle Dragon.”

Keeper. He had heard that so many many times, and he didn't know what it meant. What was he supposed to be the keeper of?

“Only on my death.”, Braham spit out and charged in, and Tivon saw one of Kas's illusion forming from the corner of his eyes as his friends joined the battle. What surprised him most was the sylvari - Xenos - as the warrior jumped with a large greatsword lifted in his arms and lunged into the Mordrem, cutting off an arm effectively.

The Mordrem cried out, stumbling out of the way, away from Braham and Xenos right into Canach's blade, and it was Jory's swing that decapitated the Mordrem before it uttered another word. Vail landed on his shoulder, pecking him softly with his beak, and Tivon patted the raven reassuringly.

“Are you alright?” Laranthir approached him with a worried expression.

Yes.”, Tivon gave a nod. “Mordremoth…”

Laranthir looked grim. “It sees us. It knows our weakest moments.”

“How do you stand it?”, Tivon blurted out, and Laranthir's eyes glanced over toward where the Mordrem had fallen - no, toward Xenos, Tivon realized, and suddenly, when his gaze dragged over toward where Braham stood and their eyes met once again, he had to avert his eyes to keep the swell of emotions from erupting.

“Our friends are our salvation.”, Laranthir murmured. “Keep them close to keep your mind from the edge. Mordremoth will be ready at all times, ready to pull you under. But you are strong.” When Laranthir noticed that Tivon was looking down at the ground he lifted his hand and squeezed his upper arm, softly encouraging Tivon to look up. “Don't look so frightened. Your friends will shield you.”

“I know they will.”, Tivon murmured, and Laranthir smiled wearily.

"Than you are luckier than most of us."

Tivon did not get to reply. “We'd better get back to camp.”, Canach interjected and Laranthir pulled his hand away. Xenos almost seemed to fly to his side, looking Tivon over as if assessing him, and under the scrutinizing gaze Tivon turned away.

“I hope this proves what I've been saying―if we work together, this doesn't have to be a total disaster.”, Laranthir said before he beckoned them All - Tivon's friends and the rescued Pale Reavers - to follow. Now that the prisoners were rescued and the trust in sylvari strengthened - at least in this small group - Tivon was glad to give the mantle of responsibility back to Laranthir, and the secondborn seemed reassured that his command would not only be accepted but also wanted.

Some were born to lead. Tivon wasn't one of them. He was content to be with his friends, to walk with them abreast and to be equal in every regard - being the one at the front wasn't a position he felt comfortable with. He cast Braham only one shy glance before he walked after Laranthir, forcing his mind to focus on the task at hand.

 

* * *

 

The walk back had Tivon wondering what he could do to not only enhance his friends' trust in him but also how to pose less of a liability. The fight with the Mordrem had shown only that Mordremoth knew where he was and what he was doing, and that it could strike at any given moment. He needed a strategy, or at least some resemblance to a plan if he was to resist and fight Mordremoth and its minions.

The thought to meditate came into his head. He would be able to focus almost single-mindedly, but that focus would not allow him to be emotionally connected as he now was. It was comfortable like this, he felt sheltered and protected, but…

One glance at Braham's broad back was all the reminder he needed to reassert himself that his emotions were running wild and a threatening liability. Also, his integrity was at stake.

He'd promised them he would sustain his contemplative state. That he'd keep Mordremoth at bay. Was it not his duty to ensure Mordremoth had no way of seeping through crevices of his mind? He knew now how changed he had become whenever he took it upon himself to meditate. He would turn calm, collected, mindful, full of sobriety and solemnity.

As they walked back he pondered about his dilemma, not committing to an answer just yet. The return to the camp was much less cheerful as Tivon had thought: The sun had begun to set, dark, long shadows trailing from the looming cliffs over the planes of rock and grass, painting everything pitch-black and the Pact members clearly had not expected them to return, but having even more Sylvari among them clearly did ease their minds.

Groups formed inside the camp. There was Laranthir with Xenos and the Pale Reavers, all other Pact members that were non-sylvari, and Tivon and his friends as the only mixed group.

A fire was alight in the camp, and those that had remained behind had built up some defenses, mostly walls from scrap material and small turret parts. “It's a long time until daylight.”, Laranthir sighed as he gazed toward the sun as it disappeared on the horizon.

“Will they attack during the night?”, Tivon asked and let his eyes trail over the high looming vines that had not moved - except for the soft and slow oscillating movement that had it swinging from side to side. This was Mordremoth's territory and enemies could come from anywhere, anytime, and he had no trouble staying awake if necessary, but he wanted to be prepared for the possibility. Vail remained still on his shoulder like a frozen statue of white, eyes following the surroundings with keen scrutiny.

“Possibly. They've shown to be increasingly belligerent then.”, Laranthir answered as he seated himself by the fire. Xenos stood behind him like a statue, eyes glued to the darkness that stretched in front of the camp.

Braham was pacing up and down at the back, Rox trying to soothe him with hushed words. “We'll go come morning.”, Rox tried to ease the norn, but Braham barely even seemed to hear. His boots drew long, broad tracks into the ground and Tivon followed the shuffling of the Norn's feet with his eyes. “They need us here. It's just tonight.”

“They did fine until now.”, Braham grumbled back.

“Without us, the Pale Reavers would still be prisoners.”

Vail on his shoulder made a noise that sounded like an annoyed _caw_ and then took flight, signalling that he would not be a part of consoling the Norn's ill temper.

Tivon watched after Vail for a moment until the sliver of white disappeared in the darkness and then wandered toward where Braham and Rox stood, contemplating only briefly before he moved in Braham's path. He lifted his hands into the air in a pacifying manner and tried to meet the Norn's eyes. “Braham.”, Tivon said, voice soft and low, and blue eyes snapped up toward him from where they had glared at the ground. “You are making everyone nervous.”

Braham frowned down at him, and Tivon could see the glint of anger flaring in the Norn's eyes. He was almost hoping that Mordrem came around the corner right this moment so that Braham could let off some steam. “I don't care.”, Braham snapped. “I can't sit idly like the rest of you.”

“You don't have to.”, Tivon soothed, ignoring the barb that Braham had said in the moment of his anger. “Just…talk to us.”

“Eir is missing.”, Braham said sharply. “What else is there to say?”

“How you feel-”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Then,” Tivon tried again, infinitely patient and calm, “what you think.”

“I think we should head into the jungle and uproot every single tree until we find her.” Braham's voice was rising now, and Tivon saw from the corner of his eyes that the others began to stare.

“And we'll help you.”, Tivon promised. “We'll find your mother, Braham. Come morning, when we've all survived the night, we'll go and ask around if anyone has seen her, and we'll follow the leads.”

Braham's anger deflated somewhat, and beneath that mask of anxiety and wrath, Tivon saw how tired Braham seemed to be, that the anger was simply covering up a sense of loss and control the norn was extradited to. “We're here for you, Big guy.”, Rox chimed in. “Tiv and I can track her down. Just…just this night.”

“Just this night.”, Braham murmured in echo, voice no longer harsh, but still rough around the edges.

Vail's warning crow was sharp in Tivon's ears and he whirled around, and when he searched with his eyes for the Raven he heard a loud, terrified scream that distorted into a gurgle, and a weapon clattered to the floor in the distance. “Mordrem!”, another voice cried in panic, and the whole camp was on their feet the next instant. Braham was already brushing past them to get into the fray and he looked ready to take down Mordremoth itself if he had to. Neither Tivon nor Rox dared to hold the norn back, neither with word nor action.

“Will he be alright?”, Tivon wondered with a small voice. Everyone else was rushing past them toward the fight and only slowly did Rox and Tivon follow the herd of soldiers.

“He'll come around.”, Rox murmured. “He always does. He's a bit temperamental, but that just shows he cares.” She pulled her bow from her shoulders and knocked in an arrow, the movement well-practiced and fluent as they walked. With her chin she gestured toward Braham who was at the very head of the crowd, and Frostbite gave a short chitter before he followed Rox's signal.

Tivon lifted his wrist and tethered himself to Braham once again and moved forward, not daring to wonder what would happen if they could not find Eir, or if they found her dead. It would be so cruel for them to have come so close to reunite only to be torn apart again, and Tivon knew that Rox was right: Braham's ferocity and wrath were a sign for how strong his feelings for his mother were, even if he'd denied them until not long ago. By the Pale Tree, all of this was just unfair.

The egg, his Wyld Hunt reminded him. You must find and protect the egg.

There were three paths. There was Braham searching for his mother, there was Jory and her drive for revenge, and there was Tivon's Wyld Hunt calling for him to find the egg. If the call were not so imperative he'd tag along with Braham easily - because if they found Eir then Braham and her would surely go after Mordremoth, converging with Jory's path.

But if he went looking for the egg…he couldn't attack Mordremoth and protect the egg. He'd bring the egg straight to the Elder Dragon in the process, and that was a risk he was not willing to take, no matter the fact that he knew so little of why the egg actually was important. So…was he to abandon his friends on their quest after they'd helped him complete his? Or would he discard the egg entirely and walk with his friends instead? He owed them so much, and the very fact they'd stayed with him and stuck with him after everything that had happened was only more evidence of the fact that he should stay with them - that they deserved his full dedication and focus.

Tivon didn't want an answer to that. “Focus on that which lies ahead.”, he reprimanded himself and cast a wisp around a massive Mordrem as it appeared in his field of vision. It was a small shimmering orb that moved in an in-drawing circle around the Mordrem and cast a white light, confusing the Mordrem long enough for Jory to make a strike. Rox's arrows wheezed through the night air, and Tivon raised a vine wall by the side of the camp to stop the Mordrem from pushing in further.

It was hard to see how many enemies were actually there; the darkness enveloped them completely in shadows, and it was only when the flickering light from the campfire illuminated them that they could be seen.

They were the very same Tivon had fought before, just like those Mordrem guarding the prisons. They all had different weapons, some wielding sword-like leaves that were sharp, others carrying daggers in the form of thorns, one even wielding a heavy club.

The Pact members held the camp and the fight went on…and on…and on. Tivon kept off those Mordrem that scurried between the front line, hitting precise and efficient strikes with his staff, but the length of the fight was testing the endurance of his magic, especially the upkeep of the tether and his healing abilities.

He formed a small wisp that circled a soldiers chest; it was a small manifestation of his nature magic made portable because he could not move from his position. When he turned his head he saw that Kas was looking just as weary, that her hair hung low over the side of her face in thin strands, her pale face illuminated by the fire.

Her illusions brought a small sparkle of light whenever they shattered, the sharp clattering noise ringing even through the ravine, but the steady if a bit chaotic sounds of fighting were abruptly interrupted by a sudden loud screech.

“Cover!”, a voice cried, and Tivon didn't see whom or what to take cover from until it came crashing through the side of the barricade, scattering wood and metal in a barrage of sharp shrapnels over the camp. Tivon quickly raised his hand, casting a small curl of vine that sent out a steaming, magical mist that absorbed the missiles before they could do any damage.

'It' being a massive raptor on which a Mordrem wielding a spear rode, and said spear was plunged tip first deep into a Pale Reaver's chest before removed with a jerking motion. Tivon dashed forward, catching the collapsing Pale Reaver in his arms and pulling him aside, while Braham and Jory tried to unsaddle the Mordrem from the beast.

Tivon's hands were drenched with sap when he placed them atop the sylvari's chest, and the sylvari looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Tivon poured his healing magic inside when Mordremoth's voice appeared in his head again, demanding,

“Kill them or cripple them. Then bring them to me.”

He shook the voice off with a shake of his head and continued undeterred, his eyes focussing entirely on closing the wound. He felt the fabric inside stitching together, folding and molding into new tissue and then, suddenly, it felt cold.

Bitterly and utterly cold as if he had plunged headfirst into the icy waters of Frostgourge Sound and he took a hitched breath, noticing the sylvari's red eyes for the first time, and the gleam of the dagger in the flickering fire-light.

The dagger dug deep into Tivon's side and Tivon gasped and staggered to his feet, taking a few steps back with his hand clutching at the wound. Warm sap flowed thickly over his fingers and the sylvari rose from the ground, slashing with his dagger in Tivon's direction, and Tivon dodged backward, gritting his teeth at the pain of every movement.

The sylvari looked crazed with his ruby-colored gleaming eyes, a strange, wicked smile plastered upon his face as if nothing made him happier than the thought of slashing Tivon to pieces.

“Stop!”, Tivon said sharply, but the sylvari was relentless, one strike swishing through the air after another, pushing Tivon back. “Stop! You're not its minion!”, Tivon tried again and caught the sylvari's arm mid-air, holding it tightly. His own sap mixed along the sylvari's forearm, but the sylvari was looking only at Tivon, dagger quivering in his grasp, itching to strike at him.

There was a movement from the corner of his eye and then, suddenly, a blade cut through the sylvari's neck. The sylvari stilled and then collapsed into a heap on the ground, and behind it appeared Canach who wrinkled his nose in disgust before lifting his gaze, clever, dark eyes trailing over Tivon's wound.

The stare was both statement and question in one, but Tivon understood and nodded. The healing magic felt cool and numbing on his fingertips as he poured it into his own wound - but it was nothing in comparison to the wound upon his mind. To think that Mordremoth could turn them even now…

There was the sound of water rushing down a waterfall, booming and louder than any other noise, and a sparkle of light lit up the night. Tivon lifted his eyes, back pressed against the barricade, and stared wide-eyed when a vortex of swirling blue and white turned larger and larger, turning into a portal and from it jumped a figure - a heavily furred, crouched, cat-like figure - and Rytlock Brimstone stood atop the barricade, Sohothin gripped tightly in his claw.

“Sharpen your blades and guard your vitals―I'm back!”, Rytlock called triumphantly and smugly and promptly raised his arm to cast a magic that made Tivon's bark prickle. Something moved and shifted behind Rytlock, a figure forming from mist and streams of white, revealing the face of a dragon. But not just any dragon.

Glint.

It was a projection of Glint. Rytlock gestured forward, and the projection bowed upward, lifted and spread its wings and released a powerful flap that sent a gust to rush over the whole camp, rattling the barricades and scrap alike. Tivon had to lift his other arm to protect his face, air brushing over the leaves on his armor and he heard a loud thud nearby.

When he blinked through the whirl and swirling of dust he saw that the Mordrem who had been seated upon the raptor was dismounted, slowly rising to its feet. It raised its spear, showing them a snarl with bared, thorny teeth before it deflected Jory's greatsword. Jory whirled around and away, her shroud covering her in the form of a dark mist, her dark hair disheveled from the usual neat bun made at the back of her head with her hairpin.

There was a moment the Mordrem stood its ground, twirling the staff in its hand as it regarded Jory, and then, slowly, Kas joined beside her, holding a sword of her own, and the came Braham with his mace and rolling back his shoulders, eyes looking wrathful and foreboding. When Canach finally took his place around the Mordrem as well the Mordrem cast a glance around - realizing in what kind of predicament it had gotten into, and it was Braham's cry of rage that set them all to action.

There was a spatter of colors when Kas' magic exploded and Jory's greatsword sent out a chilling wave of cold, dark magic that froze the Mordrem as it hit. A sheet of ice covered its bare chest and its arms were glued to its torso, and then Braham and Canach jumped forward simultaneously, striking the Mordrem from the back and behind. Canach's blade easily sunk easily into the tough bark covering the back, and Braham's mace managed to shatter the skull under his strike.

Coppice scattered over the ground, splaying onto the dirt and raising only a few particles of dust into the air. “Mordre….”, the Mordrem gasped before Canach slit his blade free, and then the body fell with a crunching noise to the floor. There was only a short moment of silence and then the tap of metal boots behind Tivon and he turned around, gazing Rytlock over.

“Hope you don't mind me joining in.”; Rytlock grinned, and Tivon noticed that the Charr was wielding a blindfold to cover his eyes. His armor was a different shape as before he had mysteriously vanished, under circumstances that Tivon had tried to comprehend and failed miserably. “It looked like you could use some help.”

“Appreciated.”, Tivon smiled wearily and with a flick of his wrist that was almost an absent-minded gesture he released the tether, the strain finally easing somewhat.

“Tribune? “, Rox asked disbelievingly and almost flew to Rytlock's side, clutching the bow tightly in her hand. Her green eyes were huge, looking Rytlock up and down (Most likely because she thought he could not see her do it.) “You're alive! But where have you been? And what's that new magic you're using?”

Rytlock Brimstone let out an annoyed growl. “Later, cub. All you need to know is that I'm back and I'm better than ever. Right now we've got comrades to rescue and dragon minions to kill.”

The egg, the voice inside Tivon called.

“It's with Caithe.”, he thought. “The egg is safe for the time being.”

“You'll be joining us?”, Tivon asked and Rytlock turned his head, but with the blindfold covering his eyes it was hard to tell which way Rytlock was looking. Tivon shifted the staff into his other hand uncomfortably and rested his other arm over his stomach, his palm covering up his flank and concealing the remains of the wound.

“Yes.”, Rytlock answered and tilted his head, a loud cracking noise resounding from his vertebrae. Tivon tried not to shiver at the sound. It was something all other races seemed to do from time to time. He'd heard it sometimes when Rox stretched, or when Braham was wringing his hands.

“Glad to have you aboard.”, Tivon said and turned his head once again when he heard steps approaching. It was Laranthir who stepped closer, looking battle-weary but determined. The secondborn had sap splattered over his vigil guise and behind him trailed the warrior Xenos, who apparently cared little that he was not merely splattered but almost covered in sap, the thick fluid running over his plate lazily.

“There are more Pale Reavers out there.”, Laranthir began and did not turn his head around when the others joined them. “I will gather them together and take command. As a sylvari-only unit, we can monitor and protect ourselves from threats both internal and external. If any of us show signs of…faltering, the others will do what needs to be done.”

Tivon glanced over toward Jory and Braham before he murmured tentatively, “My place is-”, but he did not get to finish when Laranthir raised his hand in a gentle gesture for quiet.

“I know. You will be heading into the jungle to find Destiny's Edge, the Pact Marshal, and the Commander. We would all be in your debt if you found them. Their leadership would bring some balance to this chaos, and perhaps then the Pact will learn to trust sylvari again.”

Tivon nodded, throat tight. There was no way of knowing where Sgileas or Trahearne were. There was a chance they had been taken to where Eir was - and that was some consolation at least because it made Braham's path that much more urgent. “We will do our best.”

“That is all we can do, Valiant.”, Laranthir smiled sadly and rested his hand atop Tivon's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Safe travels, and may the Pale Tree watch over you.”

“And you, Laranthir.”, Tivon said blandly before he watched Laranthir turning away, and Xenos gave a curt wave of his hand before he followed Laranthir, steps carrying them back to the camp. Behind him, Rox was pressing Rytlock for details.

“Tribune? I saw you dive into the Mists. Where did you end up? How did you learn new magic?”

Rytlock growled again.”We don't have time for this. Look, history is full of legendary figures. Heroes and villains, idols and monsters. While I was in the Mists, I figured out how to harness their power and make it work for me. Okay?” The last was nearly snapped, but Tivon knew it was not because Rytlock actually had a bad temper - it simply was Rytlock's manner.

“Uh…okay,” Rox nodded, even though she looked more confused than before, “but I have a lot more questions―”

“Save 'em.”, Rytlock snapped curtly. “We've got a mission, soldier.” To his surprise, Rytlock marched over toward him, and Tivon could almost feel the heavy weight of the charr's eyes. “Let's get to work.”

“Yes.”, Tivon said almost instantly and felt catapulted back in time to his first encounter with the Tribune. He'd been absolutely terrified of the charr, fearing what might happen.

“Rytlock looks…different.”, Braham murmured behind him as Tivon and Rytlock took the lead of the group.

“He fights different, too.”, Rox said with reverie. “How is he doing…what he's doing?”

“Doesn't matter, it's working. I'm glad he's here.”, Braham shrugged.

“Me, too. It's a good omen―we took heavy losses, but we're still in this fight.”, Rox chimed with determination, and even though they had not slept the entire night and the streaks of the morning sun barely reached the horizon, Tivon felt more energetic than when the fight had started.

But the voice in his head chanting The egg was persistent and incessant, and he glanced over his shoulder wondering what he should do. The egg was important, there was no doubt in his mind about it. The Pale Tree had insisted that he be the one to take it, and her own urgency boosted his own.

If worse came to worst, then he would have to leave his friends behind - and that kind of notion made him realize that was what Caithe was doing.

“I would be no different.”, he thought and gulped.

He hoped desperately that a path would open to him somehow - that the voice demanding for him to look for the egg would either quiet down and he could help Braham and Jory, or that Mordremoth fell before the egg could be in any terrible danger.

“Destiny waits for no one.”

Ignoring his Wyld Hunt was tearing at him, as if someone started plucking him apart piece by piece, ripping off the leaves of his armor and then picking the bark from his skin. It itched in the back of his neck, an itch he could not scratch, and it was maddening that he had no way to resolve this conflict.

He felt guilty for thinking it, but somehow he was sure that when the time came - he'd prioritize the egg. He'd choose to walk alone, and he pressed down his vivid imagination of how his friends would react.

“Tiv.”, Jory's voice cut through and Tivon startled from his thoughts, his feet dragging over the sand and stone absent-mindedly. Rytlock only titled his head slightly at the voice but didn't slow down, taking the lead on his own as Tivon slowed down. “A word.”

Had she seen what was on his mind? Was that even possible? He slowed waited beside her as the others passed by before they joined at the rear, out of earshot. Kas gave them a glance Tivon couldn't read, but he thought he saw worry.

“Look, I know this isn't easy.”, Jory murmured hesitantly. “But I haven't seen you meditate in a while. How are you holding up?”

There was no point in lying. Not only was he bad at it, but he felt guilty whenever he did.

“I haven't…for some time now.”, Tivon admitted honestly and she regarded him for a moment. If anything, Jory appreciated honesty more than any other than Tivon knew.

“You should.”, she replied bluntly, frank in her own way. “You said it kept your mind clear.”

“It does.”, Tivon agreed. “It's…”, he sighed. “When I became Soundless for a time, I thought I was being noble. That I could protect the Dream, but that was naïve and ignorant. I cut myself off, and I wasn't…myself.”

“You were…different.”, Jory agreed. “But now it is more imperative than ever that you keep a clear head. We have seen what the other sylvari are changing into - and I saw that sylvari turn on you.” Tivon met her dark eyes evenly, remembering the wound that had left a hole in his flank. It was fully healed now, covertly so while the others had recuperated, but the memory was worse than the wound itself. “You know how dangerous Mordremoth is. I trust you, I said I do. I just want to make sure we make it through this. Together.”

He'd promised her. He'd promised them. There was nothing he wanted to guard more than his integrity, so he nodded, throat feeling corded and tight. “Alright.”, he nodded. “Next time we make camp, will you help remind me?”

She gave a relieved smile as if she had expected him to refuse. “Of course.”, she said.

It somehow did not feel like a relief for Tivon at all and he did not allow himself to think of what happened to his integrity when he went to chase after the egg on his own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, you have made it! Welcome to the end of this chapter. It was really long, I know, but I am sure you agree this could not have been written any other way. Everything here is important and I hope I have left you in the usual state of anxiety as I usually do. What will Tivon do? What will he decide? And will he meditate? Questions, questions. Find out next chapter! :D  
> Much love!


	48. Establishing a Foothold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I, uhm, well, I have to apologize. I forgot to upload on Wednesday and now here we are, haha. I decided to make it up to you I will post not only one, not two but three chapters. Sound good? Yeah? Phew. :D  
> One's on the house, so go enjoy yourself while I upload all of this. *Claps hands together*

It was not going fast enough. Braham tried to pick up the pace, he really did, but there was no pushing this along. They were conversing at every turn it seemed, and no matter how tight he folded his arms in front of his chest, how many times he tapped annoyed with his foot, no matter what he did, nobody seemed to realize the urgency he felt was eating him up like acid.

By Wolf's teeth, Eir was here somewhere, and they were talking _still._

"I've got to find Destiny's Edge and Trahearne. Mordrem took them all prisoner.", Tivon was explaining to one of the Pale Reavers they had rescued, a head scout of some sort. "They could be anywhere. I need to know where they were taken, or at least find someone who knows the lay of the land."

"I've seen Mordrem force-marching high-value prisoners west, deeper into the jungle. It's not much, but it's a start.", the Pale Reaver murmured. "As for knowledge of the terrain… If you head north, you'll also run into a village of local hylek called "Itzel."

"Itzel?", Tivon repeated. Braham held back a groan of annoyance. West. They needed to go _west_.

"They're fast and agile, and they know how to get around. With their help, your search will go a lot faster. But the first thing I'd do is check in at the large Pact camp to the west. The people there should know more. Oh, and keep that glider handy. Navigating the jungle is dangerous: one wrong step around here can be fatal."

"Glider?", Tivon repeated and the Reaver gave Tivon a look.

"Yes. A glider. You don't have one?"

"I…do not.", Tivon answered hesitantly.

"We haven't needed it.", Braham interjected. "Let's go."

"Just a moment.", the Pale Reaver murmured and unstrapped something from his back and handed it to Tivon. It was an apparatus made from wood and cloth and looked surprisingly sturdy. Braham wanted to smash it apart. "Take mine. Navigating the jungle without a glider would be madness."

"Are you sure?", Tivon asked. "If you-"

"No, I am fine.", the Pale Reaver interjected. "If you are headed west-ward, you'll need it. I only possess the one, but your companions should acquire one as well. I will get a new one when I return to camp."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thank you."

"Safe travels and Pale Tree protect you."

Tivon nodded solemnly. "You as well."

"So, where are we heading?", Kas asked.

 _West_ , Braham wanted to scream.

"We can not be sure if Destiny's Edge, Trahearne, and the Commander have been taken west.", Tivon murmured. "Perhaps the Itzel will help us."

"We know they take high-value prisoners there.", Braham cut in. "We shouldn't waste time with some frogs."

"There might be some survivors who have seen or heard from Destiny's Edge, or Trahearne and the Commander.", Tivon argued, his voice surprisingly calm. It made Braham angry. How could they all stay so collected and calm? Eir was _missing_ , by Wolf's flagging tail!

Tivon didn't seem to notice the turmoil in his head. He was too busy trying to assess the glider the Reaver had given him, trying to figure out how to put it on. They were walking once again, Tivon's fingers fumbling with the straps and failing and Braham finally jolted into action, not bearing to watch how Tivon made a fool of himself.

Tivon made a surprised noise when he stepped in front of him and Tivon lifted his hands, fingers splayed in the air while Braham strapped the glider to Tivon's chest, pulling the belt tightly around Tivon's form. "There. Now let's go.", Braham said and when he looked, Tivon's green eyes were blinking up at him in surprise.

"Thanks.", Tivon said, and Braham didn't know why, but he had to pull away. The anger was ebbing away, fading…he wanted to hold on to that, but it was stripped from the palm of his hand without his consent. He wasn't sure what would be left of him if he allowed the volcano inside him that boiled near the point of eruption to freeze over. He wasn't sure if he had the energy for anything, then. Tivon had that effect, for some reason. Calming. Reassuring. Tranquillizing.

Braham couldn't stand it.

"Excuse me.", Tivon said and was approaching another of the Pact members again. There. Now he was angry again. "Marshal Trahearne and Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner. I'm trying to track them down. Do you know anything?"

"I haven't seen them… Except for Caithe. She wasn't on board the fleet when it launched, but she's definitely here."

"Caithe's here?", Tivon asked in surprise. It should not be a surprise that the damned firstborn was here with the egg. She had nowhere else to go except into the maws of the one thing that tried to take the egg. Braham's wrath came not only because Caithe had taken the egg and given them such a hazardous journey, no. He was mad at her for abandoning Destiny's Edge. If she had been there, perhaps Eir would…."When did you see her? Where did she go?"

"She came through a few hours ago, heading west. She was trying to keep a low profile, but I spotted her.", the Pact member grinned.

"Was she wearing a large backpack?", Tivon gleaned further.

"I think so. I only caught a glimpse…", he trailed off and then slowly asked. "What was in the backpack?"

The egg was always the thing that lead Tivon's attention. "Something important to me.", Tivon answered evasively. "Thanks very much." The man nodded and they continued through the labyrinth of cliffs and passages, heading north.

"Are we really going to the frogs now?", Braham groaned.

Tivon looked up at him with an apologetic stare, and Braham hated that too because it worked. He didn't want it to work, he wanted to be angry, damn it.

"I'm sorry, Braham.", Tivon said softly, and Braham wondered if that was the voice a hunter used to ease a trapped animal. He was norn, a _hunter_ , a _warrior_. The voice shouldn't be used to address him. It should _not_ work on him. "I promise we will not dwell, but if the local inhabitants know where they have been taken, then we can pursue them. We'll be quick."

Damn it. Damn it _all_. "We better.", Braham grumbled out, unable to formulate another response, and Tivon flashed him a winning smile.

_Triple damn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet and only the beginning of what I have planned for all the switches in characters. Is there one character you'd like to see in particular? Here's a list of who will be present so that you can make up your mind more easily:  
> Tivon (X), Braham(X), Rox, Kasmeer, Majory, Taimi, Canach(X), Sgileas(X), Trahearne, Derwen (X), Rytlock. [And, if you want, but I do not have it planned: Kota and Vail. Maybe Frostbite.]  
> So, an (X) means that there are chapters already in the making with this character's point of view, but hey, if you want to see a character repeatedly, that's fine too! <3  
> Let me know in the comments! Love you guys!  
> *flies off to upload another two chapters*


	49. The Jungle Provides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It does indeed. I hope you are ready. No spoilers just yet, but this chapter is gonna be  
> a-ma-zing!  
> Go and enjoy yourself! <3

Tivon and the others stomped through the jungle, the vegetation barely giving way before them. It was a constant struggle of squeezing in between trees, pushing aside branches and through bushes, and Tivon knew what Canach meant when the secondborn murmured,

“I don't like this. Too many ambush locations.”

"We'll handle anything the jungle throws at us.", Braham said, his broad form leading the group through the thicket and coppice. They had been marching for hours now in search of any sign of the hylek, but it was difficult to navigate the jungle when everything was packed with trees and evergreen leaves, the terrain leading up and down in incessant succession, making traversing not only difficult but taxing as well.

 “Are you sure we're headed the right way?”, Kas murmured, her eyes searching for a sign of the sun, but the tree's crowns blocked out signs of gilded light.

"I'm sure.", Tivon answered, reassured by his keen sense of direction and followed after Braham, ducking his head when Braham pushed aside a branch as it snapped back. It _swished_ over his head, oscillating for a few more moments before it stilled behind him, but Tivon was not looking back. His eyes were glued on Braham's form and he tried to think of reassuring things to say, but all the words seemed like fleeting moments of respite, the fire before a rain of ash.

There was a clattering sound in the distance and they all stilled for a bare moment before Braham charged forward through the thicket, brushing aside branch and bush alike. Tivon nimbly followed, feet carrying him easily over the wave-like ground, roots, and plants creating an odd shape that challenged even Tivon's superb ability to keep his balance.

 The loudest sound was perhaps Taimi's golem. Scruffy's steps thundered through the ground, vibrating through the earth, and each step was accompanied with a mechanical moving noise.

The swish of leaves was around his ears, the heavy thud of Braham's boots in front of him when suddenly Braham came to a stand-still and Tivon gyrated aside, but Kas was not quite as lucky and made a surprised noise when she barrelled into Braham's back.

She stumbled back, rubbing her reddening nose vigorously when Rox finally joined beside them and pointed down the slope toward a path leading in between two canyons. “Look, there!”

“Ibli!”, the enormous grey hylek in the distance cried. It apparently had not noticed the group behind them as they had stumbled from the coppice even though Taimi's golem made enough noise to announce an entire army. Beside the large frog was a smaller hylek, looking much thinner and agile than those hylek that Tivon knew from other parts of Tyria. “The plant ghouls are back. Archers, arrows ready!”

“Mordrem Guard.”, Tivon murmured when he saw what the hylek meant by _plant ghouls_. It certainly was a creative way of putting it. He looked up at Braham. “Let's show these new hylek which side we're on.”

Braham gave him a grim grin. “You betcha.”, the norn said and charged in first. As Tivon followed he heard Jory behind him,

"These hylek aren't like any I've seen. Beautiful colors, though.", the last she added almost nonchalantly.

 “They won't be so nice to look at once those Mordrem Guard get hold of them.”, Canach dead-panned.

“We won't let that happen.”, Tivon said, bringing an end to the conversation. The single Mordrem guard was no match for all of them. There was a _thwak_ of Rox's arrow even before Braham hit, and Tivon's tether gave a static surge when mace met branch. There was a loud reverberating crunch and the Mordrem fell to the forest floor.

The two hylek stared at the new-comers in dumb-founded awe, and Tivon broke the tether with a flick of his wrist before he moved in closer. The smaller frog had large, black goggling eyes, suspiciously binging them over Tivon's form, and Tivon sheathed his staff on his back with summoned vines that curled around the shaft and fastened on his back.

 “Glad you strangers showed up.”, the small hylek said warily. “I am Ibli, of the Itzel hylek. Welcome, and thank you.”

“I'm glad we could help.”, Tivon said blandly. “We've also lost people to the Mordrem, and we'd like your assistance in getting them back.”

Ibli relaxed and nodded. “Of course. We have a common enemy. We need to warn our village, but come with us and meet our kaana…chieftain.” There was a slight hesitance when Ibli mentioned _kaana_. “We can't help you if we're not safe…but if you help us secure the village, I'm sure the kaana will offer her support.”

Tivon inclined his head. "Let me speak to my friends, and then we'll be honored to meet your chieftain." Ibli nodded once again and Tivon turned toward his friends, moving out of Ibli's earshot.

 “Eir and the others are in danger.”, Braham cut in before Tivon could propose a plan. “I'm not going to waste time making introductions. I volunteer to scout ahead.”

It was Canach who argued. “Bad idea. We can't risk getting separated. I also prefer to work alone, but we don't always get what we want.”

“I'll go with Eirsson.”, Rytlock volunteered. “We'll pick up the trail while the rest of you make contact with these Itzel.”

Why were all their eyes on him again? He could not meet Braham's eyes because he feared that the norn would see his reluctance and he only nodded curtly. “Alright. But don't go too far without us.”, Tivon murmured, already regretting uttering the words the second they left his mouth - but they were out and he could not take them back.

Ibli came in close behind him and Tivon turned his head. "Please hurry.", the Hylek supplicated with a sense of urgency. "My village is in danger."

 "Let's go.", Rytlock grumbled and Braham turned away, and as he did Tivon cast him a glance. It was dangerous to walk alone through the jungle, but he knew he could trust Rytlock's judgment, and that the charr could keep a wild card such as Braham in check if need be. But it was not that which had Tivon worried. Tivon was…just that. Worried. But he knew not why, or for what, exactly. He did not want to leave Braham to leave with such emotional turmoil on his own, and somehow he was confident that he could help the norn somehow, that he could ease his burden…but Braham and Rytlock were moving, and Tivon had no option but to let them go.

 “Thanks for backing me up, Tribune.”, Braham was saying as he stepped away, and it sounded sincere.

“Don't mention it.”, Rytlock said in that low voice of his. “I just hope green-leaves keeps a keen eye on your sylvari.”

“Green-leaves?”, Braham echoed in question.

“You know - the cub with the staff.”

“Oh, Tiv?”

“So that's his name.”, Rytlock murmured. “He's alright. But I don't trust the other one.”

“Canach?”, Braham clarified, and the next part the norn said had Tivon stilling on the spot. “He's not one of us. He just shows up when Countess Anise sics him on us. Anyway, thanks again for-“

Rytlock growled again, voice more distant now. “I said don't mention it. Pick up the pace, kid-we've got ground to cover.”

Tivon glanced over at Canach and the secondborn was glaring straight ahead until he noticed Tivon's stare. Their eyes met for a moment before Canach shrugged his shoulders, and Tivon knew that Canach had heard the hurtful things Braham had said.

“I'm sure he doesn't mean that.”, Tivon tried to alleviate as they stepped upon the wooden bridges that hung aloft, spun between the edge of the looming cliff toward the large trees that seemed to grow from the nothingness beneath.

"I am sure he does.", Canach chimed, sounding almost pleased. "As we get closer to Mordremoth, I trust you'll make it clear to all which side we're on." There was a short pause in which Canach stared at the hylek in front of them. "I don't want the Itzel-or anyone else-mistaking me for a Mordrem Guard or a Pact turncoat. It would be a cruel irony for me to die wrongly accused."

 Tivon nodded contemplatively. “I'll vouch for you, but I can not make people trust us.” There was a short pause in which he looked at Jory's dark hair as it waved with each of her movements. “Any of us.”

There was a depth to Canach's eyes. Not sympathy, but understanding. “If you turned,” Canach said slowly, “They would be hard-pressed to stop you.”

“They are stronger than I.”

“There is involuntary and unexpected strength in sentiment.”

Tivon pondered for a moment before he understood. If he turned into a Mordrem it was not their combat abilities that might make them falter - it was their relationship toward Tivon that would make them stagger and hesitate. “Unlikely as that outcome is,” Tivon murmured, “I am sure I can count on your strength instead.”

“You can.”, Canach acquiesced, more quickly than Tivon thought he would, before the secondborn added, “I imagine there is nothing worse than to be trapped in a body that is no longer under your control.”

"We don't know how the… _transformation_ works.”, Tivon said. “For all we know there might be a way back from it.”

"Perhaps.", Canach granted and remained quiet for the rest of the walk, the bridge swinging slightly as they moved across, planks creaking with each step they took. There was no doubt in Tivon's mind that the others had heard at least part of his conversation with Canach - but he did not mind. There was nothing that should be kept a secret among them, not now. Not when they were stuck together in the depths of Mordremoth's territory fighting to rescue their friends.

 “These new hylek are hard to read, but they seem truthful.”, Kas murmured to Jory and the Necromancer titled her head to listen in. “A little more time and I'll have a handle on them.”

“I'd bet my whiskers on that, Kas…for the Itzel, I mean.”, Rox looked over at the large hylek sheepishly. “I'm not so sure about the big guy.”

“The "big guy" is Tizlak of the Nuhoch.”, came the deep, reverberating voice of Tizlak, the large hylek, starting all of them, at least a little. “Ibli and I are a team. Our people are allies. And I have excellent hearing.” The last was said with a broad, wide smile, which was difficult to distinguish from the usual wide mouth the hylek had, and a look over his shoulder toward Rox.

Rox began to stutter, “Oh. Uh…hi, Tizlak.” Quickly she caught herself. “Nice work with the hammer back there.”

Tizlak chuckled at that, laughter sounding like a barrel of drums.

There came a voice from above and Tivon lifted his gaze to stare at the many platforms that had either been built adjacent to the trunks of the great trees or implemented into the thick, brown bark. The bridges crossed from one platform to the next, some held in the air by strings of rope alone. A single, stronger gust could bring it all to sway, and Tivon tried not to think of the looming depth beneath. “Our scouts have returned! Inform the kaana right away!”

“The plant ghouls keep coming, stronger each time.”, Tizlak murmured to Ibli thoughtfully.

Ibli gave a curt nod. “We have to alert the village…but then we send someone back to tend to the fallen.”

"Did you see them?" and Itzel asked as it climbed from the platform above, landing with a splat in front of them. "Mordrem are massing in huge numbers, just outside the village." It gazed at Tivon and his friends for only a brief moment before Tivon understood that the Itzel was uncertain if he was friend or foe.

 “We are friends.”, he said quickly. “We are here to meet with your chieftain.”

The Itzel nodded but looked at them with skeptical scrutiny as they passed by. Tivon glanced upward toward the next platform and saw that upon it many Itzel had assembled, each wearing a most traditional attire made from either leaves, bone or sticks of bamboo. The bamboo clattered softly when a hylek with a head-piece made from an ore that blinked like gold in the sunlight, and her eyes squinted at the newcomers with a question written upon her features.

 “It's getting worse, Mother - Kaana.”, Ibli began before the chieftain could ask. “The Mordrem Guard are preparing for a major attack.”

“At least we have some warning this time. Well done - wait. Your party is too small. Where are the rest of your scouts?”

Ibli looked stricken. “Fallen. Taken. And if not for these new arrivals, we would be, too.”

The Kaana's eyes wandered to them glittering with gratitude. “The jungle provides! Thank you, strangers. Are you also here to help us protect our village?”

“We are.”, Tivon assured her. “The Mordrem are a threat to us, too. We're here to stop them. We can help one another.”

“I say we strike first and hit the Mordrem as they muster.”, Tizlak suggested. “They won't expect us to attack them.”

“Too risky.”, Ibli cut in and shook his head. “Our people here need protection. We should focus on improving the village's defenses.”

“What say you, strangers? Ameyalli sent you to us. I would appreciate your counsel.”

“Us?”, Tivon asked and looked uncertainly between the Kaana and Ibli. “Why do you trust me to advise on such an important decision?”

Kaana smiled warmly. “Ameyali teaches us to seize opportunities when they arise. Between that and what Ibli said about your skills and intention, I know you have an opinion worth hearing.”

Tivon bowed his head. "I'm honored. And I hope I can justify your trust." He gave himself a moment to ponder. If the Mordrem had attacked the village before, it was safe to assume that they had attempted to reinforce the village's defenses - and have been successful thus far, but by the sound of it, the situation was turning different and dire. Perhaps a change was necessary. "Both are reasonable suggestions, but if Ibli's squad has been taken, then perhaps we have a chance of bringing them back."

 There was the one flaw Tivon saw: If Mordremoth realized the Itzel proved strong enough to remain a thorn in its side (Ironically, in its own jungle no less), perhaps it would then conclude to push the Itzel from the jungle altogether - or have them perish.

“We can lure the Mordrem into the death pit.”, Tizlak chimed in.

“It is too dangerous.”, Ibli argued once again. “If you must head out, I will join you, but going to the death pit is madness.”

“The death pit?”, Tivon asked, interjecting between the two. It was Tizlak who turned around to face him.

“It appeared after the sky caught fire.”, the great Nuhoch explained. “It is a crater of dark magic, killing everything that dares to draw near. We have lost many scouts in the process, but I am confident the Mordrem can be tricked and-”

“Wait.”, Tivon cut in quickly. “Is…was there a sylvari there?”

"A…sylvari?", Ibli echoed uncertainly, and Tivon's bark prickled. Not from annoyance, no, but from the sudden hope that sparkled through him like a flare. It set his skin alight, and even the world around him seemed to shift in response. Everything seemed _slowed down_ , not _fast enough,_ and he couldn't help but think _“If I am right, oh please, by the Pale Tree, let me be right-”_

“I am sylvari, that is, _my people_ are sylvari. Please, you must tell me.”

“Nobody has dared to press closer.”, Kaana said with a sad expression, recognizing his despair. “We have lost many scouts that wandered too close.” She then turned to look at Tizlak. “I know of your courage, Tizlak, but do not play with powers that are beyond our understanding.”

“I have to see it.”, Tivon cut in, interrupting once again. He stepped forward, voicing his urgency with his body as well. “ _Please_.”

Kaana looked uncertain before her gaze lingered on Tizlak. “If your plan succeeds…”

"There will be no Mordrem to speak of."; Tizlak finished for her, and finally, Kaana relented and nodded her broad head, the metal band around her neck clicking softly.

 “Very well. Good luck.”

Tizlak chuckled. "With respect, Kaana-if you'd seen our new friends fight, you'd know we don't need luck." Without further ado, the great Nuhoch lead the way, and Tivon hurried after. 

“What have you seen?”, Tivon pressed, and Tizlak rotated his head slightly to look down at him.

"Corpses. Flies. The stench of a cadaver and rotten flesh lingered in the air, sickeningly sweet and humid. There is nothing to see, sylvari. There was only death." 

Tivon shivered at the description, but he had to see for himself. If it was…

 By the Pale Tree, if it was…

 Tizlak mustered him for a moment longer. “You seek friends, yes?”

“Yes.”, Tivon answered. “We have lost so many of them, and if there's a chance…”

Tizlak nodded in understanding and changed the topic, possibly to divert Tivon's thoughts, at least a little. “These Mordrem Guard…are they as much trouble elsewhere as they are here?”

“They're new, and compared to the rest of Mordremoth's slaves, they're the least mindless and the most dangerous.”

“That is…troubling.”, Tizlak murmured thoughtfully. “But the jungle provides, and until now we've been on our own.”

“I don't know if your jungle brought us here, but we are definitely going to help with your Mordrem problem.”, Tivon promised, and Tizlak gave him a wide smile. Actually, Tivon could not really tell if it was a smile or just the normal state of that large, wide mouth, but Tizlak's eyes glittered gratefully.

"Then I will lead you to this pit.", Tizlak murmured. "Follow me."

 

 

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Tizlak lead them through the thicket caused by the tight trees and bushes covering each step that they took. The air was hot and stifling, and if Tivon were not sylvari he might have sweat like Jory and Kas. He could see from their reddened faces that the climate was not agreeing with them, but neither of them was giving a peep of complaint.

Tivon was so focussed on the sole, shimmering hope that had announced itself like the rise of the morning star. If there was dark magic at work, if there were shadows, if there was death…it practically screamed like an indication for a Necromancer. It could be Trahearne, Sgileas, or both, or someone else, but he needed to know.

Tivon barely noticed Kas walk up beside him. “Do you think it could be…”, she asked tentatively, and Tivon answered,

“I hope so. If it is…”

Kas nodded, getting it. “We'll find them.”

“There are Mordrem ahead.”, Tizlak cautioned and shifted the hammer in his grasp. Tivon gripped the shaft of his staff with his fingers, pulling if from the vines atop his back.

“We are ready.”, Tivon nodded and Tizlak charged in first, massive hammer dragging beside him. The Mordrem barely had time to react when the large Nuhoch barrelled into them, sending the first one with a swing of the hammer to the air and landing a couple of feet away. Tivon tethered the bond to the Nuhoch this time, the resonance unfamiliar and strange, but empowering nonetheless.

Jory charged in after, swinging her greatsword with firm determination and efficiency, and Rox took care of those Mordrem that were too far at the back out of their reach, riddling them with arrows and interrupting any of their actions until Tizlak and Jory arrived to strike a final blow.

“That should teach the Mordrem-“, Tizlak was saying when he suddenly stilled. “oh. Look there, near that strange blister. It's one of our fallen scouts.”

Jory inspected the body, crouching down. Her long, dark robe dragged over the ground collecting dirt, but she didn't seem to care. “They were dragged here, just like the Pact soldiers. But what's happening to them?” The last was directed at Tizlak who shouldered his large hammer.

“Mordrem take a body from the battlefield and turn it into many monsters. So we always burn our dead immediately.”

Tivon let his eyes wander and noticed that many such blisters lay strewn across the field and that the longer he stared the more he realized what horrifying fate it must be to be dragged here - and to be transformed forcefully.

 “ _This garden is mine. Protect it.",_ Mordremoth said with a hint of anger as if Tivon was a disobedient child that would be taught a lesson if it did not obey.

Canach was beside him, giving him a glance. “You and I both know those strange blister chambers are important to Mordremoth.”, he said in a low, strangled voice, and Tivon realized that the voice was the very same for them both.

“It will send Mordrem to protect it.”, Tivon concluded and gripped his staff tighter. “And we'll be ready.”

Canach nodded grimly in agreement, shield and sword readily in hand. With a heaving twist of his arm Tivon raised his hand toward the canopy atop his head and summoned a spirit, the ghostly shape gliding translucent through the ground until it stood rooted in its spot. There was a hum in the air when it appeared, an electrified static that invigorated them, and Tivon felt his skin was abuzz and his hands steady when the Mordrem arrived through the thicket.

Frostbite jumped a Mordrem, catching the creature by surprise, and as it fell Kota jumped atop, his pincers cutting at all parts of the Mordrem's body he could reach. Vail cawed above, distracting the enemy archers, but the Raven was too agile for any of the arrows to actually hit. It glided through the air like a bolt of silver, claws scraping at twigs and pulling them apart.

Tivon dragged his hand through the air in an elaborate movement and felt his staff vibrate in response. A wisp formed around the Mordrem that Tizlak was fighting, and as it circled it passed through the great Nuhoch, illuminating the Hylek for a brief moment in which his power seemed magnified. The hammer crashed into the Mordrem with an overhead strike, slamming into the ground beneath and managing to fracture the very ground he stood upon, ripples cascading toward the side in the form of forking lightning.

 _"The sun within makes one blind to its wonders.",_ the Druid whispered and Tivon acted on instinct, lifting his staff and pointing at Tizlak. For a few agonizing seconds nothing happened, doubt and fear settling in when he saw Tizlak charging into another group and he directed his staff toward the Mordrem attacking Tizlak instead.

A stream of light emitted from his staff, casting a gilded pillar into the air, streaming through Tizlak into the Mordrem. The creature stumbled back not because of the force, not, but because the beam burned hotly into its bark, singing its flesh. Tizlak used that to use advantage - and Tivon saw that even a cut along Tizlak's arm closed so long as the _Solar Beam_ remained attached.

It had the same effect on all the others as well, and when finally the last Mordrem lay slain and the garden was destroyed, blisters cut open like over-ripe fruits, Tivon felt more accomplished than before - and wondered what other powers lay hidden and dormant within.

 _“Master that which is before you_.”, the Druid cautioned and Tivon glanced sideways toward Kas, but she seemed unable to hear anything. He rested his hand atop her forearm where a thorned dagger had scratched her, and his palm illuminated in a gilded light briefly before he felt the tissue beneath stitching together. She watched with unhidden curiosity and once he had finished inspected his work with a smile.

“Thank you.”, she said genuinely, and Tivon smiled back.

“I have never felt such power.”, Tizlak murmured and glanced at the fractured ground before lifting his gaze to Tivon. Tizlak's dark eyes were full of wonder. “Come strangers, the Death Pit is just ahead.”

Tivon was not sure why, but he held his staff abundantly tight, refusing to ease his grip. His whole body felt tense once again, shoulders drawing in, eyes focussing straight ahead, and his legs hurried without being bid after Tizlak as the Nuhoch disappeared among the bushes.

“Shh.”, Tizlak made, and Taimi behind them came to a halt, the thundering steps of Scruffy stopping. “Do you hear?”

Tivon listened, only to realize there was _no sound_. There was no rustle of the wind, no brush of leaves, there was no creaking of branches and no song of birds, just dreadful, disquieting silence. It filled the air thick and humid, cording Tivon's throat, and he shook his head in answer.

Tizlak nodded. “It is the pit.”, Tizlak replied lowly and glanced toward Taimi, and here even the golem barely seemed to make a sound. “It kills all.”

“I must see.”, Tivon said urgently.

“Very well.”, Tizlak acquiesced, but the Nuhoch stood rooted and gestured forward. “Tread carefully, sylvari.”

"Tiv.", Kas interjected when he began to move and he turned around. "Are you sure about this?"

 “We'll never know if we don't see for ourselves.”, Tivon answered. “If…you are afraid, I understand, but I must know.”

Kas nodded, even though she looked stricken. It was Jory that placed a soothing hand atop her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on.”

Tivon lifted his hands against the thicket, brushing aside leaves and branches. They skittered over his bark, swinging back behind him, but his eyes were gazing forward, only _forward_.

The silence was deafening, unnerving Tivon to the point he missed hearing Taimi's foot-stomps, but even those seemed dampened. The next thing Tivon noticed was the _smell_. It reeked of flesh decomposing, sweet and utterly unbearable, but Tivon pressed onward. Kas behind him chocked, but he didn't turn around.

He had to see.

He _had_ to see.

The next bush brushed past his leg, the branch swished behind him and Tivon abruptly stood stock still. The trees ahead had been felled or slashed, marks like claws digging deep into the bark in a sign of utmost desperation. The ground was leveled and amidst the fallen tree trunks was a crater leading a few feet deeper into the ground. The earth around the edges looked churned and parched, and from amidst the deep pit grew a veil of smoke that lashed out into the air, whipping like a living thing.

 Bones and bodies lay scattered throughout, and Tivon recognized the head of what must have been and Itzel scout. Its upper body lay atop the surf, fingers clawed into the ground while the lower body half was missing. Blood painted the ground a deep, dark color, too long dried to be red.

 “Gods.”, Kas gasped beside him, and Rox stiffened considerably, Frostbite near her feet making an uncertain noise.

"It…doesn't feel right.", Rox murmured and crouched down toward the ground, patting Frostbite's shell with her large clawed hand. Kota seemed to share Frostbite's anxiety, keeping close to Rox and the Devourer.

 “Scruffy's picking up absolutely naught.”, Taimi chirped, the only one apparently unaffected by the grotesque picture before them. Perhaps if she _smelled_ what they did, she would be just as stricken as them.

Tivon inched closer and ignored Kas' hand when she tried to reach for him in vain. He edged towards the crater, the ground crunching beneath his feet with each step. Whatever was in the ravine below hissed, and Tivon didn't dare breathe.

_“You are a bit of an idiot, aren't you?”_

_“I…I get that a lot.”_

_“Good.” A small pause. “That which we are can not hurt us.”_

"Sgileas.", Tivon whispered and dared glance below. The crater was filled with a dark mist, shadows lashing out toward the sides, and it was as Tivon had predicted, as his instincts had told him, as everything had screamed inside him. "Sgileas!", he cried out, elevated and horrified both at once and he jumped below.

 Kas behind him cried out, Jory gasped and Scruffy took a single step that thundered through the ground, but Tivon was skittering down, sliding into the sea of darkness. Shadows lashed out, whipping around furiously and he focussed, focussed on _getting_ there, _focussed_ on reaching Sgileas, and with a burst of light that spread through him in a warm blast his body morphed into a wisp of gold, dashing through the darkness unhindered - and unharmed.

Inside it was pitch black and cold, and when Tivon transformed back he stumbled on his feet for a couple of steps, seeing neither up nor down, no forward or back, and even when he _felt_ himself lift his hands, he couldn't see them.

There was another hiss around him, but it sounded… _resigned. Defeated,_ even.

“Sgileas?”, Tivon called, and his voice seemed to get swallowed by the darkness. “Sgileas!” A moment passed, stretched agonizingly into multiple minutes, and then, slowly, the darkness parted. Tivon saw the pattern on his own arm and glanced around, whirling on the spot, gyrating and turning until he saw the familiar glow of purple in the darkness pulsating so softly and faint as if from a heart that was about to still.

Tivon rushed forward and let his staff clatter to the ground, his hands finding the body beneath his fingers. It was cold underneath his fingertips, unbearably and _terribly_ cold, and he chocked out a breath, fingers digging into the robe that was torn and stiff.

“Sgileas.”, Tivon brought out and lifted his hand to cup Sgileas' neck, but the Necromancer didn't respond. His body lay heavy and limp, unmoving and nerveless, and Tivon felt despair shatter through him with unyielding intensity. “No, no.”, he brought out and closed his eyes.

 _“I must save him.”_ , he thought bitterly, and the Druid answered with a level, soothing voice,

 _“You can.”_ Then again _. “You can.”_

The switch was easier, this time. It felt almost as natural as slowly easing his body from the shore into the warm waves on a summer evening, power brushing over the leaves of his armor in sparkles of electricity. There was a hum of static in the air for a brief moment before it all shifted into solemnity and tranquillity, time ceased to matter, the universe evolving only around them, around Sgileas, around him.

  _“You can.”_

Tivon reached into Sgileas' body, through the robe into the bark, deeper into the tissues and fibers beneath. It was… _By the Pale Tree_ , he was _broken_. The body felt broken beyond repair, shattered almost in every conceivable place, fibers fractured and splintered where a spine kept upper and lower body connected.

 But he mended. He grasped every tangible string, wove them back together with diligence and patience, and as his body and mind drifted, so did time. It stretched endlessly, minutes passing into minutes, minutes into hours…

Tivon felt more than the simple separation of Sgileas' body. He felt the separation of his body and mind. He felt Sgileas' spirit fighting to hold on, he felt the twinkle of hope and the life that _somehow_ , despite _everything_ the Necromancer must have gone through, was _gasping_ and _grasping_ at the opportunity to blossom again.

His hands rested atop Sgileas chest for a moment longer, hoping, no, daring to hope beyond any hope, daring to have _faith_ where every determining factor was against him, daring to believe when all seemed lost.

Perhaps it was that. Or perhaps it was Sgileas' own strength of will, the power of his mind, the pertinacity to live. Or, perhaps, it was a mixture of both.

Because then, inexplicably, wonderfully, _miraculously_ , Sgileas drew in a sharp breath, chest heaving with the effort it took, newly formed fibers stretching under the uncommon strain, and Sgileas' eyes flew open, staring at the darkened green canopy above.

 Tivon watched every breath with awe, with reverie, with a grand and bubbling happiness that overwhelmed him until the Celestial Avatar sunk back into his skin and Sgileas turned his head, blinking at Tivon in confusion with tired and weary eyes.

“T…Tivon?”, Sgileas began, voice raw and scratchy, so very unlike Tivon remembered.

“Yeah.”, Tivon answered. “It's me.”

Sgileas sat up ever so slowly, groaning as he did so, and Tivon offered to hoist him up which Sgileas did not decline. “The fleet…”, Sgileas began, his hand clutching at his flank where half his body had been torn in two not mere moments ago. Or was it hours? Tivon could not tell.

“It…”, Tivon hesitated, and in that one moment of hesitance Sgileas' whirled his head toward him, almost glaring at him.

“What?”, Sgileas asked sharply and unrelenting. “What happened?”

“It's…Mordremoth destroyed the entire fleet.”, Tivon brought out and Sgileas seemed to remember, a painful memory flashing behind his eyes. For a moment the Necromancer averted his dark, purple eyes, lost in thought, or perhaps a memory when suddenly a sharp epiphany surged over his features.

“Trahearne.”, Sgileas rasped. “Where is he?”

Tivon stared and felt he was bare, stark and completely vulnerable under Sgileas eyes.

With surprising strength Sgileas grasped Tivon's shoulder, grimacing at the pain that shot through him and hiding it quickly enough before he hissed, “Tivon. Where. Is. Trahearne?”

“We don't know.”, Tivon finally whispered. “He's MIA.”

Sgileas rocked forward, moving upwards into a standing position, nearly catapulting himself to his feet, but the second he stood his body faltered, the fibers not yet resistant enough, not yet flexible enough, and he bowed forward with a pained gasp right into Tivon's arms. Tivon held him securely, making a step back to ease Sgileas weight slowly back down, and for a few moments, there was only Sgileas rash breathing in the deep silence.

 The dark fog around them lifted only slowly, the shadows drawing back into Sgileas' skin, and Tivon didn't dare ask why the Necromancer's hands trembled or why he had not looked up for a multitude of minutes. He could only scarcely imagine the kind of guilt and pain Sgileas was dealing with.

 “Tivon!”, a voice cried from above and he lifted and turned his head toward where Kas and the others still stood, and he could see that they had slowly dared to inch closer. The sunlight was waning, the last few rays of daylight filtering through the canopy and casting large, thick and deepening shadows upon the ground.

To Tivon's surprise, he also saw Tizlak, who was frowning and then slowly eased himself down the ravine. The others followed shortly after, and Tivon wanted to tell them to stay away, wanted to give Sgileas more time, but he had underestimated the Necromancer.

 Sgileas lifted his gaze, focussed and determined, and his fingers dug almost painfully hard into Tivon's shoulders. “We have to find him.”, Sgileas whispered, dark, purple eyes glaring, supplicating, pleading in a mixture of emotions that were part anger, urgency and need.

“We are looking for him.”, Tivon said soothingly, the crunching steps of the others approaching behind him. “He and Destiny's Edge are missing.”

Sgileas nodded and Tivon wondered how the Necromancer managed to put on such a strong facade, how Sgileas managed to appear so strong when nearly the whole world had been ripped from beneath his feet. It was…astounding, and both saddening to watch. The only reason Tivon could think of that Sgileas was sheltering his emotions away was because he didn't want the others to see his terror, see his frustration and anger and loss.

“Well, haven't you seen better days.”, Canach's voice pierced through, and even though Tivon wondered if it might be insensitive, he didn't get to interject.

“You?”, Sgileas brought out and tried to stand again, and Tivon helped him lift himself to his feet. “It-”, Sgileas rasped, voice tough and full of pain. His body was hunched over, and the strain was clear in his features and the tremble of his body. “It was going well,”, Sgileas grit out and then lifted his head to glare at the secondborn. “…until you arrived.”

Tivon was not sure what to make of the interaction. Canach chuckled lightly, clearly not offended, but before there could be any more animosity, Tivon finally cut in. "Tizlak, could you help me?", he asked and glanced upward. The great Nuhoch nodded his head and bowed down, easily lifting Sgileas from the ground. The Necromancer gasped and grit his teeth, and Tivon wove a soft tether that connected them, soothing and easing the stressed bands and fibers with palliating nature magic.

 “Is he gonna be OK?”, Kas asked, her eyes blown wide.

“I…will need more time.”, Tivon admitted slowly, climbing up the slope after Tizlak. “His entire body was broken. I…” he hesitated and only Kas' encouraging gaze brought him to continue. “I don't even know how he's alive.”

They all didn't notice Canach's thoughtful stare that was glued to Tizlak's back. It was unreadable anyhow, but it's intensity was overwhelming - a mixture of wonder and contemplation - if anybody had bothered to look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sgileas is back from the brink of death! He's a real tough nut to crack I have to give him that. Can you guys actually believe that I played with the idea of actually killing him? I only entertained the thought for a few brief moments thought. Killing Sgileas would mean a great loss of potential for the story and I simply love my puissant salad boy.  
> Much love, and one more to go!


	50. In Their Footsteps Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you read that right. Part I. I am going to drag this out for as long as I can so that not only I can finally shed all my ideas but so that you may suffer with me through this. Believe me when I tell you that all the drama takes a toll on me as well - but the good tingly kind.  
> Small edit before I flop into bed:  
> FIFTY CHAPTERS PEOPLE. HOLY GUACAMOLE. *Does a happy dance*

Sgileas recovery was a far future ahead, a future Sgileas demanded of himself more so than he had ever demanded anything - he _wanted_ his full recovery, the return of his battle adeptness and magical prowess. No, that was wrong. He did not just _want_ it. He _needed_ it. He demanded the recovery from his body. He demanded his recuperation so that he could tear Mordremoth apart.

When Tivon had found him fighting at the very brink of his existence, holding on to the last spark of light and his conscience, Tivon's magic had forced a steady pulsing growth in his body, induced the excrescence of new tissue because the old had been marred and damaged beyond repair and any saving.

 _"It was necrotic."_ , Tivon had told him. _"Your body was already in a state of decay."_

 _How dare you,_ Sgileas had thought with a burning wrath that was targeting nobody but himself. _How dare you fall apart when I_ need _to keep going._

He was harshest with himself in this regard, even though the pain was greater than any he ever remembered experiencing before. Whatever Tivon had done - and frankly, Sgileas could not be bothered to know _exactly_ what it was so long as he functioned properly - the Druids magic had coerced the body to regrow and those parts were new, unstretched, unrelenting, _unyielding_ as if someone had stretched a skin over Sgileas body that was too small. The fibers barely allowed Sgileas to walk upright and each step was a torture that could be read from between the lines of Sgileas face.

 He tried to hide it - _Pale Mother give him strength_ \- but it was no use. The body before had been broken, and the new would need time to adjust. There was only one problem:

Sgileas was no patient sylvari. Not very much so with others and even less so with himself.

“Tizlak?” a scout gasped when they approached the Itzel village. “Well done! Kaana Miatli sent us to support you, but it doesn't look like you need any help.”

Tizlak chuckled deeply. “We do not. The Mordrem Guard didn't expect us to attack them, let alone beat them.”

“Kaana Miatli extends our gratitude to your new friends. She asks you to provide the guidance they seek.”

Tizlak gave a curt nod. "I'm ready. Just as the jungle provided the strangers to us, she now provides us to them. Tell Kaana that the Death Pit is no more and that we may transverse the jungle more freely again."

 The Itzel was about to ask when Tivon interrupted, “Thank you, both. Two of my people went on ahead. We need to find them and press on as quickly as possible.” Then Tivon glanced over at Sgileas - and the Necromancer knew it would become somewhat of a new habit for the Druid and that even if he attempted to steer Tivon's mind away from his ailment, Tivon would not.

Sgileas had refused to be carried about half-way here by the Nuoch, not bearing the shame and the sting in his pride, and the Necromancer was standing unsure beside Tivon, leaning on Tivon's staff the Druid had provided as a cane.

"We have no time for this.", Sgileas snapped, patience wearing thin. He witnessed the whole Thank you and no thank you's, and there was an urgency within him that would have him turn around and leave them behind, but he couldn't bloody walk without a cane in his hands. He was dependent on not only Tivon's staff but also Tivon's tether that wove into thin air between them. Without it, he would have neither strength nor endurance to keep himself upright and however hard he tried to ignore that Tivon looked weary under the strain of it, he couldn't. When Tizlak and Tivon had finally finished giving him a look they obliged and followed after the limping Necromancer, catching up with him easily. When Tivon finally was abreast Sgileas demanded, "Tell me all that you know."

 "Ah…", Tivon made, clearly uncertain of where to begin and surprised to be in the sudden spotlight. "I and my friends went after Caithe and we found her in a cave in the far Silverwastes. The Shadow of the Dragon attacked us and she vanished in the fray, but I found out through the memory seed that we sylvari…", he hesitated for a moment and Sgileas was moving slowly, limping beside him. He hated being this weak. "We come from the jungle dragon.", Tivon finally finished, voice drifting lower as if it was something to ashamed of.

 "And?", Sgileas gleaned and ignored the surprised look Tivon gave him. Did the Druid truly believe he had not figured that out himself the second Mordremoth had demanded his obedience? The moment Trahearne had -

  _“Stay.”, Trahearne's voice echoed even though the roaring of flames and the sounds of sword meeting sword was shrill in his ears. “Stay with me.”_

Sgileas shook his head, pressing the memory and all the feelings associated with it down, down, _down_. Down where it had to _stay_. Somewhere where the emotions would not come to resurface and plague him, toil him, _conflict_ him, somewhere where he could keep them from _himself_ and not fall apart.

Figuratively.

Literally, he had already done.

 “No.”, Sgileas suddenly said sharply and cut off Tivon who had opened his jaw and Sgileas watched the Druid close it shut. “Wait. Caithe _knew_?”

“It was her memory-”, Tivon began, but the fuel was already strengthening the flame in Sgileas chest into a blaze. Heat and wrath mixed in his belly and Sgileas grit his teeth loud enough to make them creak.

“She knew.”, he hissed out menacingly and Tivon did not dare open his mouth again.

Not only had Caithe refused to come with the Pact and Destiny's Edge, no, she _stole_ the egg, which, frankly, Sgileas did not care about, but the fact alone that she played her own game at the expanse of any others, no matter their life or death, and _then_ letting the Pact sail against Mordremoth _knowing_ fully well what would happen - He did not even give her the benefit of being _ignorant_ enough to _not know_ that Mordremoth would call to them. She _knew_. She had _known._

“Woah!”, a voice behind him made and he turned his head and noticed that the shadows of his Death Shroud reacted to his emotion and lashed out wildly behind him with a hiss. Tivon's hand was upon his arm, cool and warm at the same time as if the Druid didn't fear him, as if the danger Sgileas posed was in some capacity under the Necromancer's control.

“She only tries to do what is-”, Tivon began softly, but Sgileas did not let him,

“If you say _best_ -" Sgileas snarled and glared up the few inches from his hunched position that separated him and Tivon, but he did not need to finish that sentence at all to have the threat hang clearly in the air. Instead, Sgileas continued after drawing in a painful breath. "She did not warn us. Her incentive to do good has caused nothing but misery for us. We would not have attacked Mordremoth like this, we would have the egg and none of the others would be missing or dead." He took another deep, ragged breath, rage positively eating him up inside. "She had better pray to whatever magnanimous being is willing to listen to her that I never see her again."

 “She is heading west.”, Canach informed him. “Which, coincidentally, is also where the high priority prisoners are taken.”

Sgileas' sharp eyes mustered Canach for a moment. It was as if the secondborn understood what kind of hatred burned inside him, the desire to rip Caithe apart growing steadily like a volcano nearing to burst and fuelled it with more fire. “Is that our sole lead?”

“We have Tizlak.”, Tivon interjected. “I thought it best to ask the Itzel for help. They are the natives of this land and I thought that if anyone knew how to traverse the jungle, then they did.”

“Sound.”; Sgileas agreed in a grumble. “Who of this party is missing, then? You mentioned someone scouting ahead.”

“Braham and Rytlock.”

“Rytlock?”, Sgileas asked for clarification and Tivon nodded.

"He came back during our last fight, but I have no idea _how_. He just…appeared.”

“Through a portal to the mists.”, Jory emphasized with a chuckle from somewhere behind them. “It was really flashy.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Apparently Mordremoth has these… _blisters_ that are used to transform anyone into a mindless minion, no matter if sylvari or not. When we converged with Laranthir-”

“Laranthir is alive?”, Sgileas interjected.

Tivon nodded. “He and Xenos are alive, but the Pact is averse and suspicious towards us sylvari.”

“Understandably so.”, Sgileas admitted. “It is no easy task to resist Mordremoth's call.”

“I barely heard it.”, Tivon shrugged and looked sheepish, guilty even. “I believe I was too far away.”

Somehow Sgileas doubted Tivon would have cracked even if he had stood right there with him on the _Glory of Tyria_. The _Call_ had been vehement, incessant, and for Sgileas it had been Trahearne who had-

_“Stay with me.”_

The pain in his chest had nothing to do with the wounds, it had nothing to do with fibers slowly stretching to the posture he asked. It was a pain deep within, spiking and aching, like a needle boring into him deeper and deeper and _deeper_.

 _“Calm.”_ , Sgileas told himself. _“Focus.”_

It was not that easy. The worst was the uncertainty. The worst was _not_ knowing. Not knowing Trahearne's fate, whether he was alive or -

 _“No.”,_ Sgileas reprimanded himself. _“He must be. He has to be.”_

“Sgileas?”, Tivon's voice broke through and Sgileas glanced at him to signal he had heard. “If there is anything I can do….”, Tivon trailed off and his green eyes were soft and kind.

For all the good that Tivon was, the wonderful and benevolent heart he possessed, Sgileas, right now, didn't have a need for it. In fact, he felt that if he showed anyone, even himself, how much he _hurt_ , how much the _despair_ and _hope_ and _fear_ wrangled his throat and how the emotions tore him asunder beneath the surface, he would fracture and fall apart completely. All that kept him standing would falter and fall away and leave nothing but the bare emotions that lay beneath the smooth, even surface of Sgileas' churning subconscious. It was even and still like the sea, and the waves beneath crushing and tearing everything under, threatening to burst through.

“There is.”, Sgileas replied curtly and then continued with finality, his eyes gazing up to meet Tivon's with a glare. “Never ask that question again.”

Tivon gave a solemn, quiet nod and averted his eyes and Sgileas could not help but feel as if he had kicked a puppy.

“Those blisters you mentioned…”, Sgileas gleaned instead of dwelling on his train of thought and Tivon picked up where he had left off.

"When we converged with Laranthir we rescued a group of Pale Reavers that had been captured. Apparently, they resisted Mordremoth's call, but they were to be taken to the prisons anyhow."

 "It is, therefore, safe to assume that Mordremoth can transform anyone - willing or no.", Sgileas concluded and suppressed a shiver.

  _Trahearne._

By the Pale Tree, if Mordremoth captured Trahearne if he was -

 Sgileas closed his inner eye, closing himself off from the picture it presented. He couldn't…take it. Couldn't bear it. The desire to rip apart every trunk, to rip out all the roots in search for Trahearne grew tremendously, but his body was too weak to answer to his innermost desire. He remained in his crippled state, incapable of even properly _walking_ without a cane.

“Here we are.”, Tizlak suddenly said and came to a standstill. Sgileas was unsure for a moment before he felt the shift in the air and he raised Tivon's staff with a swing - and the invisible Hylek revealed himself with two raised hands in a defensive gesture.

“Easy.”, The Itzel said, eyeing the staff as it quivered in Sgileas' grasp and Sgileas cursed himself inwardly when he had to plant it back down on the ground again, his body refusing to remain upright without its offered support. The Itzel looked more than happy to have the weapon out of its face and looked at Tizlak with a raised eyebrows. “Tizlak, it has been a while. Who are these strangers who are with you?”

“The jungle provided.”, Tizlak said. “They have helped us secure the village and Kaana has offered to help them find their friends in return. Their friends have been taken prisoner.”

“Actually, we are looking for Braham and Rytlock.”, Tivon interjected. “A large norn with a bad temper (Rox snorted at that, muttering “Understatement” under her breath) and Rytlock, a charr with a flaming sword.”

"I haven't seen anyone like that.", the Itzel Scout murmured after pondering for a moment. "But I have seen a plant-woman with a large backpack. She came through a few hours ago. She was traveling alone and looked very suspicious…like she was in a hurry and didn't want to be seen."

 “We know who that is.”, Sgileas cut in, voice cold and sharp as ice. “And I will deal with her soon enough.”

The Itzel nodded, although frowning at Sgileas rage that was written across his face. Sgileas ignored the side-glance that Tivon threw him and did not bother to change his statement. When Sgileas saw Caithe again, he would show her no mercy that Tivon would. “You should check in with my partner Acan. Perhaps he has seen whom you seek.”

“Where can we find him?”, Tivon asked.

“West.”, the Itzel answered curtly. “Just follow the sound of his strumming lute.”

"Thank you.", Tivon said with a bow of his head, ever the polite enunciator.

“All paths lead further west.”, Sgileas murmured once they were out of earshot. It was maddening that their pace was so slow _because of him_.

“This is where our paths part.”, Tizlak said and Tivon turned fully toward the Nuhoch.

"It was a great honor meeting you, Tizlak. I hope our paths will cross again."

 “Me too, sylvari. You are a friend to us. The jungle provides.”

At that, Tivon only nodded, and it was only Kas who gave a shy wave as a way of saying goodbye before Tizlak shouldered his hammer and sauntered off into the thicket, humming a soothing tune that faded into silence as he disappeared.

 "Come on.", Sgileas ordered when he had gained a few paces as the others stared after the Nuhoch. "No rest for the weary." Tivon gave a weak smile at that and even though Sgileas would never admit it, it was encouraging and somewhat calming. The tether sizzled comfortably between them when Tivon flew to his side instantly, catching up with an easy short jog.

 Sgileas closed off his mind and did not allow his mind to wander and his thoughts to stray. His entire focus lay on the path ahead and it was only when Tivon lifted a branch for him to pass through that a thought stirred in his head like a worm, persistent and incessant.

 "Tivon.", Sgileas said in his usually sharp voice of tone and Tivon twitched as if he expected to be reprimanded for something. "You saved my life." It was as close to a 'Thank you' as Sgileas would go because the words seemed to tangle up his throat. They reminded him of his failure and that without Tivon, he would have died in the Maguuma Jungle.

Sgileas did not look, but he saw that Tivon's eyes softened at that. "I'm just glad I made it in time."

"The debt is repaid, I'd say."

"If you don't mind," Tivon murmured with a hint of a smile, "I'll watch your back a while longer regardless."

Sgileas wanted to hit him.

He didn't.

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The hours seemed to drag on and slip by. It was unnerving how very long every second could stretch and sometimes to suddenly find that he did not remember the last half an hour.

 The heat of the Jungle was unbearable with a hot, moist, _stifling_ air. The vegetation profiteered from the rich ground and the blazing glare of the sun. The occasional stream offered a small amount of time for respite, cool water dragged overheated skin and running down dry throats before marching on into the endless expanse of accretion of proliferation.

 They walked for what felt like an eternity and Sgileas could _feel_ Tivon's worried gaze, could feel those evergreen eyes glued to his back, watching out for him, almost as if expecting him to fall. It was all Sgileas could do not to be chagrined by Tivon's expectations and it was both the frustrations he dragged around within himself and the circumstances of their hike that impelled Sgileas to let off some steam “This staff.”, Sgileas brought up abruptly and Tivon glanced up questioningly. “It's unpractical.”

“It…”, Tivon began, clearly uncertain how to respond. “It was a gift.”

“You should return it.”

At that Tivon chuckled. “What is wrong with it?”

"Firstly, it's shape is misshapen.", Sgileas replied sharply, not bothering to smother his anger and frustration. For some reason, he felt Tivon could easily take it, even if a guilty voice inside him replied that was hardly _fair_ to expose the Druid to it. “Secondly, it's not properly balanced, not to mention it has no value as a weapon. It's a _branch_ , for all that it's worth.”

“Yeah.”, Tivon agreed and the fact that he was grinning sheepishly made the tight, hot coil of emotions in Sgileas chest unwind. Somewhat. Just a little. Enough that the steam seemed to rise from his skin and evaporate, easing some pressure he carried inside.

 _Damn_ that no-good ever-good sapling.

“But that's just why it's so charming.” Tivon stared the staff down almost adoringly, his gaze somewhere far away, somewhere happy and warm and sunny. Somewhere where Jungle Dragons didn't kidnap people and killed their friends.

Sgileas wished he had that kind of innocence.

“It's a handicap.”, Sgileas dead-panned, refusing to be bested by Tivon's infuriatingly positive attitude. “And was your weapon of choice not a bow?”

“That…changed long ago.”, Tivon was almost perplexed as if he only had now noticed that he and Tivon had been _apart_ and that Sgileas had no idea. “I've improved.”

“Doubtful.”

“I have!”, Tivon protested.

“I'll show you.”

“That-”, Tivon cut himself off and let his mouth hang open. It took a moment for the words to sink in, even Sgileas could see it, and Tivon seemed almost like all those months ago, back when the world had not started turning on them both. A little slow, perhaps a bit on the stupid side, but wonderfully good-hearted and innocent and naïve. “…you will?”

Sgileas gave a curt nod. “I am _known_ for my expertise with the staff.”

“Which is currently narrowed down to cane-walking.”, Canach chimed in somewhere behind him and he pointedly ignored the secondborn to his best ability, but thorns and brambles, he could not tell how the secondborn managed to annoy him quite so much with so little effort.

He subdued the most alluring vision of strangling Canach and focussed on Tivon instead. “I expect my recovery will be quick. Until then I trust nobody else to put up the mantle of protector.”

Realization dawned in Tivon's features and he averted his eyes timidly. Sgileas knew phrases such as _“I am not.”_ or _“I am simply…”_ dragged through Tivon's mind, even if he did not voice them.

“Wise decision, Commander.", Canach's voice sarcastically interrupted. "Do you expect the Sapling to lead through leadership and tactical expertise he's gained…when, exactly?”

“Why are you even protesting?”, Sgileas snapped. “You wouldn't take on such a task even if you were capable.”

“No need to get all personal.”, Canach grinned. “I am simply pointing out that Tivon is inexperienced and not suited for such a position.”

“Duly noted.”, Sgileas said in a final tone that dismissed all else that Canach could possibly have to say. The secondborn did not seem to get the message.

“Speaking of which, our pace is slowing.”, Canach added with a chirp.

Tivon walked in between them - not because they were in danger of actually throttling one another, but simply to create a barrier in between them and in that moment he reminded Sgileas painfully of Trahearne who would always do the very same with two arguing parties. He'd appease them with his presence of mind and body alone, ease them with a soft voice and arguments and then resolve the problem.

  _“If you've done something to him-”,_ Sgileas thought wrathfully, hoping that Mordremoth could hear, _“You will wish to never have created us. To never have created_ me. _”_

“It is more taxing than it looks.”, Tivon said smoothly and the tether flickered in response as if in harmony with Tivon's statement. “Imagine gravity about three times stronger.”

"Hate to interrupt.", Rox cut in and pointed toward a cliff in the far distance. It was separated from where they stood by a large gap of air that loomed beneath, and somewhere far below in the shadows, Sgileas could see raking vines moving and twisting and moving like a living thing. "There's our scout."

 Tivon stepped toward the edge of the cliff and Sgileas reflexively grabbed his arm. “What,” he hissed, “are you doing?”

“I have a glider.”, Tivon said as if it was the most normal thing to say - and the most dead-pan.

“A…”

“…glider.”, Tivon finished for him and pointed toward the apparatus strapped onto his back that Sgileas only now cared to inspect further. He'd noticed it, but honestly, he had not cared. “According to the Pale Reavers, it allows me to -”

“I _know_ what gliding means.”, Sgileas rolled his eyes and let go of Tivon's arm - mostly because he no longer had the strength to hold on with his fingers alone. It was strenuous just to stand and perhaps with Tivon gone there would be no one to watch him worriedly for a larger span of time and allow him to sit down - for just a moment.

His body ached, every fiber stretched and protesting in agony. Keeping upright alone was near his limit, only barely keeping him from quivering like a leaf stripped from its tree by an autumn breeze.

 “I'll glide across.”, Tivon said and brought the glider to open with a loud _flap_ and Sgileas wondered how Tivon mustered the confidence to trust the wooden framework at all. “Kas, can you make a portal?”

She squinted her eyes, assessing the distance. “No.”, she shook her head in dismay and an apologetic glance, “It's too far.”

Tivon shrugged his shoulders. "Then I'll be back in a minute." Without further ado, he jumped and Kota gave a surprised chirp that sounded like a cry, skittering closer to the edge and staring after Tivon with wide, fearful eyes.

 “Easy there.”, Rox murmured and patted the Karka's shell. “He's fine.” Frostbite brushed closer in consolation, chirping encouragingly in response. Vail on the other hand just drifted by overhead, following Tivon quietly without casting the party below him a glance.

Tivon glided in the distance, almost peacefully and perfectly balanced as if the depth below was of no consequence at all. When he landed Kas gave a sigh of relief that spoke almost for the whole collective, even if Sgileas, Canach, and Jory would never show it.

 “So.”, Canach said and Sgileas suppressed a groan at the most awkward conversation starter. Could the secondborn not be quiet and torment someone else? Quietly? Silently? Preferably _Not at all_. “What happened?”

Sgileas was too tired to keep it all up: To keep up his facade, his rage, his anger, his frustration, his brusque behaviour and his impatience as well as his body, so he decided to sit down instead, sighing in relief when his body responded with an alleviating and palliative moment of respite. “You will need to be more specific.”, Sgileas said, his voice losing some of its sharpness and anger.

When he looked up he noticed that Canach was watching him tentatively and he wondered if the warrior would even twitch if he were to stumble or fall. Most likely not. The Secondborn would laugh heartily, Sgileas was sure. “When you attacked Mordremoth.”, Canach clarified. “The reports vary greatly.”

"When we bombarded Mordremoth vines shot up from the ground and impaled our ships.", Sgileas began, the memory vividly passing by his mind's eye. "Then it called to the sylvari - and most of them turned on us. It was chaotic afterward and I intend not to bore with the details."

 “You fell.”

It wasn't a question. It was an allusion to the conversation they had had before in the Silverwastes, back when Sgileas had haughtily declared a fall like the one he had experienced in Arah would have killed someone lesser. Now, Sgileas found himself in the face of irony and it tasted bitter. Not nearly as bitter as his failure.

Sgileas waited for Canach to continue to plague him, tease him, but as he did he saw Trahearne again flashing in his mind's eye, reaching out toward him, arm stretched, fingers splayed, fingertips touching his own -

He should have tried harder. He should have pushed up somehow. He should have -

“ _Stop_.”, Sgileas reprimanded himself. “ _There is no point in guilt. You must find Trahearne and never make the mistake again._ ”

He stared at his palm that had clung to the broken railing, where he knew a cut should be, but Tivon's magic must have healed that too. There was nothing but the hallow, shameful reminder left in the form the memory of Sgileas' failure. If he'd had the wound, at least then he could have cast the illusion into his mind that he'd tried, that he had given it his all, that despite his best ability the circumstances had bested him, but without reminder, without wound, without evidence of anything that had made the situation as hard as he remembered, it felt like the failure was his, and his alone.

 That he could have tried harder, that he could have pulled himself up, that he could have swung over by the side or something, _anything_ -

“…Sorry.”, Canach was saying and Sgileas looked up, both in confusion and surprise. He hadn't heard all that Canach had said, but to hear that word from the secondborn's mouth was almost like two suns rising on the same day.

It didn't happen.

“I didn't catch that.”, Sgileas said, and even though it was the truth, Canach rolled his eyes.

“Oh no, _Commander_.”, Canach teased. “We both know I'll pretend to have never uttered a single word of consolation, as is best.”

Sgileas mustered him for only a moment before he decided that heart-felt was not his way. “I don't need your sympathy.”

"Agreed," Canach replied evenly, thoughtfully, and by the Pale Tree, it felt almost as if Canach could see through him as if the warrior knew exactly what was going through his mind. Sgileas didn't want him to know. He didn't want _anyone_ to know.

There was a rush of air and the sound of rustling when Tivon landed in front of them, slowly folding the apparatus again. Kota flew toward Tivon's side, bumping into his shins and Tivon gave a soft laugh and crouched down and petted Kota's shell lovingly before he looked up to meet their expectant gazes. "Acan saw them.", Tivon said brightly, alight with hope. "They were headed south toward what Acan called the 'bad Itzel'. There is a scout by the name of Ubek who will have information on their whereabouts."

 Tivon looked almost like a human child holding a toy, grinning widely. It made Sgileas head hurt. “Then we must move.”, Sgileas said and rose to his feet and Tivon was by his side the next instant, warm palms on his arm and helping him up. He wanted to push the hands away - but found that he had no strength to do so. Being reliant like this was…demeaning.

“There's no point.”, Rox interjected, gazing toward the sky. “There's only bare minutes of sunlight left. We need to make camp.”

Sgileas wanted to argue, he really, _really_ did, but the charr was right. Treading on enemy and uncharted territory at night with Mordrem and 'bad Itzel' covering the ground they were headed towards was too risky. “Fine.”, Sgileas agreed.

They sought a small patch in between the trees that was protected from most sides by barks of trees and where the paths an enemy could take to attack them were easily in sight. Tivon helped Sgileas seat himself down on the ground and Sgileas suppressed a groan before he held out the staff toward Tivon.

 “You need it more than I.”, Tivon said, and Sgileas wanted to smack him with it.

“Show me what you can do.”, he turned his head toward Canach and saw the warrior crouching on the ground, dropping firewood into a small ring of stones to make a small campfire. “Canach.” The secondborn looked up questioningly, raising his eyebrows and dark eyes fixing on him. “Take up your sword.”

“Are we training now?”, Canach murmured as if slightly annoyed and let his smart eyes drag toward Tivon, then he stood and drew his sword.

Sgileas gestured toward Canach and Tivon gave an uncertain glance. “Are you sure?”, he asked and finally took the staff in his hand.

“You said you improved.”, Sgileas reminded him and knew that no matter how much Tivon had improved, without a proper teacher one could only ever learn so much. Adding to Tivon's current misery was the knowledge that Canach was a _warrior_ , a master of arms, a tactician, and fighter who had used a sword and shield almost all his life - and it was the knowledge that Tivon could not hope to best the warrior, not with staff-fighting alone, anyhow.

 "You can use your magic.", Canach shrugged and Rox, Kas, and Jory seated themselves further away, and Taimi was typing furiously on some pad before she looked up with a glint in her eyes that was full of mischief. She was most likely recording everything - and not simply for the fun of it, but it was a motivating factor, Sgileas was sure.

 “No.”, Sgileas interjected. “No magic. Just the staff.”

“Ah, well…”, Tivon made, clearly uncertain, slowly easing his body-weight from one leg to the next. “I am not sure-”

“Uncertainty is the mother of all failure.”, Sgileas snapped. “Fight because your life depends on it. If you don't want to live you may resolve that quarrel with yourself - but not _here_.”

Tivon nodded, startled, and then took a deep breath. “Alright. I'm ready.”

He sounded ready, but Sgileas knew the outcome of the next two seconds before they had happened. It didn't surprise him that Tivon didn't see Canach's feint, that the sword came swooshing in from the side and turned with a nimble movement of the wrist to change trajectory and rest against Tivon's throat, staff uselessly lifted to block a strike that had not come.

“Again.”, Sgileas ordered. Canach and Tivon stepped apart and Canach attacked again, but Sgileas saw in the secondborn's relaxed posture that Canach was not serious in his attacks, that there was not as much power behind a strike as could be, that he was going easy on Tivon.

He didn't comment on it. He knew that Tivon and Canach had had an encounter before at Southsun Cove and that despite all odds, Tivon had managed to best the warrior. He also knew that during that time Tivon had wielded a bow instead, so he accounted the victory to that: A weapon Tivon had chosen that was an extension of himself. It was now that Tivon needed to learn that the staff could be the very same.

“No!”, Sgileas snapped and Tivon and Canach broke apart. “You're too stiff. Your entire concentration is on hitting one fatal blow which you _cannot_ land.”

Tivon nodded and gulped. The Druid was nimble, agile, _flexible_. Sgileas had seen it, he had seen that the Druid was capable of almost _impossible_ feats when his entire mind and body were focussed. When Tivon had charged through a horde of Mordrem to get to the signal flare, he'd shown that the potential was not finite and that his infinite potential could be harnessed and reached.

 The clank of Canach's sword against Tivon's staff echoed over the small clearing and the others watched in tentative silence. There was an occasional whisper from Jory and Kas, but Sgileas was not listening. His eyes were glued to Tivon, his movements, the turn of his body, the balance, the strength of his strikes, the grip and his hand placement. So much of it was wrong he wondered how Tivon had managed to come thus far and finally he jolted to his feet, ignoring the pain.

 “Stop.”, he growled and limped toward where Tivon was. The Druid was panting slightly and blinked at Sgileas in surprise, then the Necromancer stood behind him and reached around him, fingers curling around the shaft of the staff beside Tivon's hands. The tether was a close bind now, humming and vibrating more vehemently and surging through Sgileas in a soothing and caressing wave of recess. Sgileas gave Canach a curt nod and the warrior attacked, more slowly this time.

Sgileas pushed Tivon into the direction the Druid was _supposed_ to go and Tivon let out a soft surprised gasp. His body had twitched to move the other way and Sgileas _knew_ that. He knew that Tivon's body always turned _away_ from a strike, stepping out of the way first, but that was a certain recipe for defeat. Moving backward meant moving not only away from the fight and the enemy, but backing oneself up against a wall slowly and once one had cornered himself there was no guerdon to be had.

 Sgileas forced Tivon to push further, nudging his leg from behind with a push of his body, not showing the pain that surged through him with every movement and Tivon moved with him, letting himself be guided like he would in a dance. It was only due to Canach's deliberate slow movements and patience that the motions slowly eased into a steady rhythm and Tivon's body seemed to adjust and learn.

They continued until even the last few rays of light disappeared behind the large mountains that rose in the distance and Rox inched closer and lit the campfire in a crouched posture. The flicker was soft at first until the flame grew and warmth spread from the fire and cast a dancing light upon them as they fought.

After some more minutes, Sgileas couldn't contain the strain any longer and released the grip on Tivon's staff, backing down a few steps and swallowing down the gasps that tore from his throat, pants of breath and the grit of his teeth at the pain. "Now you.", he ordered curtly between labored breaths and Tivon lowered his staff, raising one hand to reach out for him,

 “Are you-”

“ _Fine_.”, Sgileas snapped and stepped away out of Tivon's reach. He then nodded toward Canach and noticed that the secondborn was watching him too with a mixture of tentative assessment and anxiety. He didn't turn his head to see if the others did the same. He tore his gaze away unable to process and bear their worry and pity and stumbled towards the side, away from them, and seated himself on the ground with his back resting against the bark of a tree. His body ached, a deep, thrumming pain pulsing up his spine.

Tivon's movements were better now. He didn't back away as he had before, instead he pressed onward into Canach's attacks, pushing the warrior back. Tivon's hands were both clutched around the staff, grasping tightly, and after a few more minutes Sgileas finally instructed, "Adjust your grip. You are more mobile then." Tivon did, his hands flying over the staff, sometimes holding it only in one hand. "Above.", Sgileas cautioned and Tivon blocked the strike, lifted his leg to make a kick and Canach simply side-stepped, grasped Tivon's calf and pulled at his leg. Tivon's standing leg was tugged from beneath him and his back hit the dust hard.

 Tivon blinked up toward Canach in confusion. "I didn't see that coming.", Tivon murmured dazedly.

 “No kidding.”, Canach and Sgileas replied in chorus and they shared a glance before Canach finally held out his hand for Tivon to grasp it and Tivon took it without hesitance.

Tivon dusted off the leaves of his armor and rolled his shoulders and they fought once again, this time deep into the night. Rox watched the shadows for any enemies and beside her were Frostbite and Kota, the two companions watching the fighters with keen interest. It was Rox's claw that kept Kota from charging in to assist Tivon against the superior enemy and slowly the Karka seemed to realize that Tivon was in no real danger and eased into a cozy snuggle beside Frostbite.

 Vail sat atop a branch in the trees, clever dark eyes scanning over the clearing. If there was to be a definition of a guard, it was the Raven. He was quiet but vigilant and Sgileas trusted the watchful companion enough to not pay attention to the surroundings at all.

They trained well for a few more hours until Tivon had to finally resign, admitting that the exhaustion was too much - and nobody blamed him. He'd fought long, well, and _hard_ , so long in fact that it was clear from his hunched stance how tired he was, so long that his strikes offered little to no resistance and the tether between him and Sgileas resonated only weakly between them.

Tivon sank down to the ground with a _slump_ , arms and legs splayed on the forest floor and stared up toward the canopy toward the stars, catching his breath. Rox released Kota and the Karka charged off toward where Tivon lay, barrelling into Tivon's side. The Druid let out a huff and a soft laugh before encumbering the Karka with his arm and from the other side of the campfire Jory, Kas and Rox gave a chuckle. Kota chirped happily and nuzzled closer to Tivon's chest and if anyone had glanced up as Sgileas did, they would have seen that Vail was watching with placid, dark eyes that contained neither jealousy nor envy.

 Sgileas could see the moment that Tivon closed his eyes and resigned himself to his exhaustion that the Druid would not be getting up again - and sure enough, Tivon's breath evened and slowed until it was clear from the soft, rhythmic movement of the Druid's chest and his breathing reverberated over the small camp soothingly.

 There was no way for sleep to possibly encumber Sgileas, not now. The training session had managed to distract him for a few hours, but now that the small camp was quiet, where the silence was broken only by the occasional snapping of a dried branch in the flames his thoughts drifted.

He didn't want to think of all the possibilities. He did not want to think about Trahearne currently captured and most likely fighting to hold on, and he clenched his hands into fists to contain the anger flaring within him. _“I'm coming for you, Trahearne.”,_ Sgileas thought as he gazed up toward the stars _. “Just hold on.”_

"Mind if I join you?", Canach asked and Sgileas was not sure if he was surprised or not.

"I am not chatty company.", Sgileas warned in a low voice that was near a whisper, not daring to raise it. Despite his grouchy attitude toward almost everything, he felt no incentive to disturb Tivon's sleep, even when the tether slowly blinked out of existence and left him feeling stark and cold.

 "If I had come with the intention of being entertained, I would most certainly not have joined this expedition.", Canach replied with a smile and Sgileas shrugged his shoulders. The warrior eased himself into a sitting position beside him and they both stared toward the campfire in deafening silence.

 It was, surprisingly, Sgileas who found it unbearable. With Canach sitting beside him he found it easy to not think of _anything_ , that his mind remained empty and devoid of any emotion that had rattled through him previously. Once he realized this he pondered for only a moment before he decided not to dwell on it and asked instead: "How did he beat you?"

 "The Sapling?", Canach clarified, but Sgileas did not even have enough time to roll his eyes. "I had prepared to fight off an entire group of Lionguard and Consortium members, not for one nimble and agile fighter. The cave was carefully laid out with explosives and bombs that would detonate when treated upon, but he managed to avoid them smartly. Once I got close enough I was confident I could kill him, but I had not pondered why he wore a shawl draped over his shoulder, or why it bulged amorphously unlike any pouldron I had ever seen. When I made my finishing blow my blade struck the Karka's shell and left me flabbergasted long enough for him to make a strike." Canach gestured along his chest where Sgileas assumed Tivon's blade had struck and let his gaze linger, but between the firm and inclement pieces of bark and armor furnished from leaves that covered Canach's body there remained not a single sign the wound had ever been there. "Knowing fully well my plan would come to fruition whether I was present or not I surrendered myself."

 "How noble of you.", Sgileas dead-panned.

"How good of you to notice.", Canach grinned.

The remainder of the night was spent in silence and Sgileas wondered if the reason that Canach sat beside him and stayed awake with him was that the Secondborn felt he needed to watch over him (Which was utterly ridiculous) or whether nightmares of his own plagued the secondborn and hindered his sleep.

 Sgileas came to the conviction it was the latter and knew better than to ask. So they remained awake while the camp slept and they were the only ones to hear Mordremoth's fruitless calls and badgers, defying Mordremoth at every given opportunity with an equal strength of mind and burning desire to not only resist - but to _persist_ and triumph against the Elder Dragon.

They would not merely survive, no. They would prevail.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


They rose before the first rays of sunlight caressed the horizon. All stirred awake slowly, woken by Vail's crow when dawn came, and Tivon blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His arms felt terribly heavy and strained, but when he took the staff in his hand it felt more natural than it ever had before. It was entirely different feeling, a feeling as if it belonged in his hand, as if it was a part of him, and not simply a medium to channel his magic. Not simply a weapon, but an extension of himself. At least more so than before. He was kidding no one if he claimed to have mastered the weapon overnight - but he could feel the difference.

They slowly packed - not that they had unpacked much to begin with. It was quiet and quick and when Tivon covered the tracks of their fire with moss and grass Kota came scurrying toward him, nuzzling closer to his leg. The Karka had grown overly protective in the last view days and Tivon found no fault in that at all. It was an adoring quality of the Karka and Tivon wondered how much of his troubles that cruised through his mind the Karka could sense. He caressed the Karka with a cherishing glance and lifted his gaze when he saw dark cloth in front of him.

 “Good morning.”, Jory greeted and in the dark of the morning she looked even more in her element. “I knew you were exhausted after training, so I didn't want to impose, but you told me to remind you…so here I am.”

"Oh.", Tivon made and stood slowly, hands brushing over the leaves of his armor to smother them and to clean any grass still sticking to his fingers. "Right."

  _Meditation_. Somehow he was not sure why he dreaded it. There had been a time he'd delighted in the feeling of lightness and enlightenment when the world seemed to finally fall into place and everything had made sense.

 That sort of sobriety was transcendent, but Tivon felt he'd overcome what he had attempted to. The feelings of hurt, of hopelessness, that moment in his life where he had not known what was right and what was wrong.

With Sgileas and Canach here to look after him, he also felt that Mordremoth had no chance to reach him in a moment of weakness. The two other sylvari were strong of will and mind and there was no doubt they'd resist Mordremoth till the very end.

 But he'd made a promise and he valued his integrity. He nodded and then gestured for her to follow toward a small patch of grass where he sat down cross-legged and Jory sat down beside him, her dark eyes watching him attentively.

Kota gave a confused chirp beside him and Tivon patted him one last time before he closed his eyes and chanted in his head, _Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter._

A few moments passed, the mantra reverberating in his mind, but due to his inconsistent uphold of his meditative state, it came harder to him than he remembered. Small sounds easily rattled him from his focus and he couldn't help but feel frustrated until he shook his head in dismay after a few minutes of fruitless attempt and stared down into his lap. in dismay "I can't.", he murmured.

 “Why not?”, Jory asked patiently and leaned forward slightly in a comforting gesture.

"I can't seem to focus. It keeps slipping through my fingers. I'll need a place quieter than this."

 She was quiet for a moment before she lifted her hands into the air. "Trust me.", Jory murmured and Tivon glanced at her in wonder. She gave him an encouraging nod and Tivon sighed but closed his eyes once again. There was a soft shift of Jory's cloak when she moved and Tivon felt two hands cup the side of his head, covering up his ears. He twitched in surprise and the noises faded, the fingers resting cool and light against his bark.

 It was quiet. So very quiet that Tivon almost shivered and he focussed, concentrated, slowly dripping deeper until he heard the soft pulse of Jory's heart through the artery on her wrist. It was soft, rhythmic, pulsing steadily. Consistent and soothing.

Tivon relaxed into the sound and once he did, he fell, drifted, sunk naturally into meditation. It engulfed him, the waters of his unconscious mind keeping and grasping him eagerly and he saw the mental image of the prison where he'd at some point in time kept all the emotions - only to see that they had broken free through cracks.

_Bring upon me the sound of no sound, so that I can not hear the nightmare calling. Leave me with light so that the darkness may not enter._

The fissures closed, one after another, small, lithe strikes scattered through the diamond mending together. Crack for crack, layer after layer until Tivon felt the cool and solemnity once again, filling him up to the brim.

Slowly he blinked his eyes open and saw Jory right in front of him, her face a few inches away, studying him curiously. The pulse of her heart had been even up until now, but it accelerated only slightly when she noticed he'd come back.

She lifted her hands from his ears and he felt…nothing. Calm and cool, collected and sublime. “How are you feeling?”, she asked and his voice was level when he answered,

“Not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sgileas POV mostly with a lot of temperamental sides and a lot of insight into his head and thoughts. Gosh, I love his relationship with Tivon, how he just pushes and pulls Tivon along on a whim of his own emotion.  
> And Canach. *sigh with a broad smile* How I missed writing him.  
> I hope you enjoyed yourself and that I have left you feeling excited for what is to come! Let me know what you think, I'll await your replies eagerly!  
> Oh, and I'll answer all your comments, I promise I will, but most likely sometime tomorrow afternoon-ish. Forgive my tight schedule.  
> Much love and all the best~


	51. In Their Footsteps Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla! I did not have time yesterday peeps, I am so sorry, but I am here now, and I am begging Akh not to kill me for delaying her fix. Please? I can't continue posting chapters if you do D:

Sgileas glanced over at Tivon. There was a saying that had been passed over the Dream, spoken by the firstborn Dagonet. Tivon's state of quiet and solemnity reminded him of it almost painfully.

_“A true sylvari should have two hearts: one soft and pliable as hot wax, and the other as hard and impenetrable as an icy diamond. The first, he should show to his companions, the second, to his enemy. Woe to the one for whom the two are the same."_

He knew Tivon's state was only due to the fact he'd mediated - a thing he'd done because Jory had insisted. She seemed to regret her decision slightly, or such was the conclusion Sgileas drew when he overheard Kas and Jory as Tivon made to scout ahead, moving quietly and crouched into the thicket, disappearing from sight.

"He's…quiet.", Kas murmured with her eyes glued to Tivon's straight back as he disappeared. "I had forgotten what he was like back then. It's…so different."

 "He's strong.", Jory said levelly as if she attempted to soothe her. "If Mordremoth is as dangerous to the sylvari as we believe, we need to be cautious. Our fight with the Shadow of the Dragon proved that Tivon is a great threat to the Elder Dragon."

 “It just…”, Kas sighed. “It feels like he's someone else.”

There was a small pause. “He is.”, Jory admitted quietly.

"Tell me of this fight.", Sgileas demanded from her and Jory regarded him for a moment with cool and level eyes. She guarded her features as much as she did her thoughts and Sgileas could emphasize with that.

 "You know how fights are.", Jory began with a shrug. "They are chaotic and tangled in every way possible, but the Shadow of the Dragon fell because Tivon tapped into his Celestial Avatar and burned it alive."

"That thing at the Summit?", Canach asked from beside Sgileas.

"Yes.", Jory answered curtly. "It attacked us in the cave where we found Caithe."

"It was really spectacular.", Kas smiled. "You should have seen it."

"Perhaps we will.", Sgileas answered evenly. The news of Tivon's powers did not excite him as they did his companions, if anything, they worried him. Tivon had made many drastic and sudden changes and the discovery of his healing abilities had been useful, but the discovery of his Celestial Avatar was a dangerous two-sided blade.

_"No creature of power likes to see their power negated. Mordremoth will be furious and attempt to bring this source of friction and trouble under control. The more his powers grow, and I am sure they will, Mordremoth will abhor them and increase its efforts to stop him.", Trahearne murmured as he stared after Tivon and his friends as they made way across the camp to move into the far Silverwastes._

  _"We have given him a warning.", Sgileas murmured, his arms folded in front of his chest. "There is not much more we can do. Once Mordremoth is defeated it will matter little what powers once impressed it and forced it into action. Once we have defeated it all of Tyria will be safe."_

_Trahearne smiled at that._

Even though the memory hurt Sgileas knew that he and Trahearne had used all the time they could together, squeezing in moments of cherish and love whenever possible. Glances, hands entwining, kisses when circumstances allowed it.

Sgileas missed him. He missed him so terribly it felt like a part of him had been ripped out from him the second he'd fallen and no matter Tivon's power of healing abilities there was no way to restore it. It was a tether all on its own, flailing wildly in the wind of sudden and abrupt change that had torn them apart. It was all Sgileas could do to cling to _hope_ and have faith that Trahearne was alive. He clung to the memory and desperately closed his eyes to hide the swell of emotions that turned into a swelling ache threatening to tear him apart.

There was a soft shift beside him, the rustle of leaves and Sgileas opened his eyes again, noticed that Canach was watching him attentively with a guarded face. There was a question in Canach's features but his mouth remained closed and Sgileas was infinitely grateful for that. He did not know if he had the level tone of voice to reply right then.

The loud snapping of a branch brought Sgileas to divert his attention to Tivon who came through the thicket with the mighty Nuhoch Tizlak at his side. The large Nuhoch gave them all a curt nod in greeting and they all lowered their weapons with a relieved sigh.

“Your friends may be skilled fighters, but they left a trail even our newest scouts could follow.”, Tizlak murmured.

“I'm not surprised.”, Tivon answered without a hint of derision. “They're in a rush. Can you tell me which way they went?”

“I've just sent a squad of new recruits into the jungle. They will have seen some sign of your friends.”, Tizlak answered.

“That will get me started, but I'll still need to locate your scouts.”

Tizlak grasped at his belt and retrieved what looked like a warhorn. “Here.”, Tizlak reached out the instrument toward Tivon and the Druid took it with a contemplative glance. “Use this warbler to locate them. Find them, inform them that I sent you, and they'll steer you right.”

“Interesting.”, Tivon murmured and inspected the warbler for a few more seconds while turning it in his hands. “I look forward to testing its function. Thank you, Tizlak.”

Tizlak was staring at Tivon for a few moments, and even Sgileas could read the Nuhoch's thoughts. Questions such as _Is everything alright, are you OK?_ Steered through the Nuhoch's head, but they covered most likely by the rationality setting in, answering _He's looking for his friends, he's worried, that's why he seems so focused and cold._

 “The jungle provides.”, was all Tizlak said and then Tivon took the lead, beckoning the others to follow. The raven flew from the canopy down toward Tivon's shoulder, claws digging in tightly but Tivon didn't seem to mind.

Sgileas limped after, his hand clutching Tivon's staff still. It was getting better, despite the fact that Sgileas had not rested the whole night. His thoughts had kept him awake as he had predicted, and he tried to steer his thoughts onwards. They were making progress, if slowly. Once he was recovered the pace would quicken again.

In Tivon's new state his powers seemed strengthened and more stable than before. The tether between him and Sgileas hummed strongly, filling him with vigor and lulling the pain.

 “So, Tiv,” Rox began when she walked abreast with the Druid, “who or what are we looking for?”

“Tizlak has told me to go South. The warbler will help stir the Itzel scouts.”

“That will give us some lead.", Rox nodded. "I hope Braham and Rytlock are alright.”

"They are capable fighters.", Tivon soothed, but his voice was calm and devoid of sympathy as if he were simply stating facts.

 Rox was left with nothing but to nod in answer, and Vail turned his head when she slowed her pace and fell back toward the rear. The rest of the journey was passed in silence, Tivon leading at the very head setting a pace that was demanding in terms of Sgileas endurance, but he didn't complain.

When Tivon finally did use the warbler after hours of stalking through the thicket there was a moment of silence until an Itzel emerged from the vegetation. The Scout stilled and blinked at them in surprise, mustering the warbler in Tivon's grasp with suspicion.

“Oh…hello. When I heard the warbler, I was expecting someone else. I am Cuatta.”

Tivon lowered the instrument. "I am Tivon. Tizlak sent me. I tasked two of my people with tracking Mordrem prisoners, and now I need to catch up with them. I need to find the prisoners or my trackers. One's a young norn and the other's a charr with a flaming sword."

 Cuatta shook his large head. “Sorry. Haven't seen anyone like that. but I did hear about two strangers cutting their way toward Auric Basin. Mundi, another scout, is stationed in that area. He might have seen something. Your warbler should lead you to him.”

Tivon bowed his head. “Thank you. We must be on our way.”

Cuatta didn't try to stop them as they brushed past and Tivon lead them through the labyrinth of trees and hills over bridges of vines, alongside cliffs that promised a deadly fall should a single one of them slip.

Kas stumbled only the once and it was Jory who shook her head with a chuckle, reprimanding her girlfriend for wearing heels to a jungle such as this. The mesmer was not offended. Instead, she just smiled warmly in return.

 The whole interaction of the group had died down and Sgileas knew it was only due to the fact that Tivon was cut off from them, lines of sympathy and empathy lost in the calm of his meditational state. There was something oddly fascinating about it, but nonetheless unnerving. Sgileas did not see the point of it. Tivon did not have to fear Mordremoth getting in his head any more than he or Canach did. There were three of them and they would protect one another not only because they could not allow any more sylvari to turn, no. They were comrades, _friends_ if Sgileas allowed such a stretch.

 “Hey!”, the Itzel protested when it appeared around the bend of a few rocks after Tivon had used the warbler once again. “Where'd you get a warbler?”

“Tizlak gave it to me. He and Cuatta said you could help find my friends: a charr and a norn.”, Tivon answered, slowly lowering the warbler to his waist.

The scout seemed to relax somewhat. “I saw them. Blessed by Ameyalli, and a big flaming sword. They headed toward the border of our hunting grounds. Ubek, one of my fellow scouts, is stationed near there.”

“Then we will be on our way.”, Tivon stated, but the scout held up a hand to stop him.

“A word of warning: Ubek was scouting the hostile Coztic Itzel village there. Be very careful when you approach her.” Tivon nodded that he had understood.

"Thank you. We must be on our way."

The Itzel did not seem to want to keep them longer than necessary, most likely happy with them moving on anyhow, and as Tivon moved toward the given direction Rox caught up with him.

“They went on a lot further than I thought they would.”, Rox murmured. “Do you think they've found something useful?”

"We'll find out.", Tivon answered and beckoned them to follow once again. It was two hours later when Tivon signaled them to halt, his eyes trained toward a large tree that was a few more meters away. They could see various Hylek surrounding it, and Sgileas concluded it had to be the before-mentioned Coztic tribe. "I'll go ahead, wait here.", the Druid instructed and with a flick of his wrist dispelled the tether that vibrated between him and Sgileas before he disappeared into the bushes at the side.

 The moments stretched agonizingly long but however strangling the silence felt, none of them spoke. Kas hummed once and again, but never continuously, and Sgileas leaned back against the bark of a large tree to rest, if only for a moment.

 “Did it hurt?”, Canach asked and Sgileas turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow in question. He knew something abhorrent was coming, but he still wasn't prepared for Canach's words. “When you fell from heaven, I mean.”

Sgileas groaned and rolled his eyes. “How long have you wanted to use that one?”, he asked and then quickly added, “Actually, don't tell me.”

"It is ironic that you keep falling from ships, Commander, but I dare say it is to our advantage.", Canach shrugged. "The universe has its way with all of us."

 Mordremoth had been unable to take him prisoner only because his shroud had protected him. That was all. It was no stroke of luck, no divine intervention. "I take it you want to be behind bars again?"

"Despite my body being free of any shackles, I am still a prisoner.", Canach replied and Sgileas frowned. To answer the unasked question, Canach continued, "Countess Anise sent me to represent the Shining Blade in the fight against Mordremoth."

"Ah.", Sgileas made and relaxed his shoulders. "I had forgotten you were a puppet."

"And you have shown what happens to puppets once their strings are cut.", Canach replied, voice equally sharp. "They fall."

"Won't you ever let that drop?", Sgileas asked, and regretted his choice of words instantly. It must have shown on his face because Canach grinned.

"I could be convinced to, but there is something oddly satisfying in upsetting you."

 "Am I supposed to be flattered?", Sgileas growled, and Canach shrugged.

"Despite your inflated ego telling you that the world revolves around you, I have not come here to aggravate you. I have a personal agenda and a most ulterior motivation that involves a certain Jungle Dragon, preferably very much dead."

 "Dead." Sgileas said, and he said the word so curtly and sharply that Canach threw him a worried glance. "I want it _dead_."

"Mordremoth taking an interest in the firstborn is so very predictable.", Canach continued, eyebrows drawn together in a thoughtful gesture and Sgileas knew that somehow, Canach had read his mind once again. That the secondborn knew that he was thinking of Trahearne and that the fact that the dragon had captured him angered Sgileas beyond anything he'd ever felt before.

Among that, Sgileas heard a note of…was that anger, frustration, or jealousy in Canach's voice? It was common knowledge that there were unresolved issues between the first- and the secondborn, mostly due to the fact that the firstborn had an exalted status among the sylvari. It was that kind of jealousy that had driven Cadeyrn toward the Nightmare. It was surprising to hear a similar emotion coming from Canach as well, but perhaps Sgileas ought not to be surprised.

"They are more experienced than most."

"But not stronger.", Canach argued. "Experience does little if not applied."

"There is always that one moron in the group.", Sgileas rolled his eyes and had to think of Tivon. "But if Mordremoth is truly interested in the firstborn, then we must find out why."

"So you do not think it is because they are superior? Because they are better? Exalted?"

Sgileas gave Canach a dead-pan look. "There is only the one who is. All the others are expendable."

 "And why is that? Because Trahearne came first?" Canach's voice was sharp and Sgileas saw the regret flicker through the warrior's features for a brief moment just before he averted his gaze. Canach had not meant to show that emotion Sgileas realized and he decided against exploiting the moment of bareness.

"You would not know.", Sgileas said, almost quiet, and it was the only time he allowed the pain and ache of his emotions to bleed into his words as well. It had the effect he had wanted: Canach finally was quiet, most likely contemplating the sudden turn of their conversation from teasing and witty to sincere.

Sgileas, on the other hand, was wondering about other things. What was it that Mordremoth wanted? If Mordremoth was after strong sylvari, was he himself not an option? Would Mordremoth take a trade when offered? _“I would switch places with him if only I could,”,_ he found himself thinking and the emotion associated with the words was raw, deep, almost anguished in its desperate quality that had Sgileas bargaining with all the forces he could muster - simply to realize the only goal that was in his mind.

 To _save_ Trahearne.

If Mordremoth heard Sgileas could not tell. Only quiet answered his desperate plea.

“Trahearne is strong.”, Kas' voice interjected from across, her eyes drawn toward Sgileas. She must have overheard part of their conversation and Sgileas only got more angry that she so obviously pitied him.

That Trahearne was strong was _not_ the problem, Sgileas found. The fact that Trahearne was strong didn't help any of them, not even the firstborn himself. Strength was of no consequence, not when Mordremoth could command the obedience of all sylvari, not when the Elder Dragon could make them obey, not when the Elder Dragon could tear the entire Pact fleet apart with less than a strike of its claws.

If Trahearne had been taken, if Mordremoth had made the firstborn his minion… Sgileas ached to think what that would do to them all. To Trahearne, to himself… _“No.”,_ he reprimanded himself once again and shook the thoughts away. He would give all that he could, his powers, his life, he'd give over his body if only he could avert such a fate for Trahearne.

Thankfully Tivon finally emerged, breaking apart the small conversation that Sgileas desperately wanted to escape from. “Rytlock and Braham are headed west. They are following a prison caravan.”

Sgileas pushed himself from the tree, hope flaring inside him without his consent. He knew better than to be naïve, he knew better than to dream, but he couldn't help it. Canach's words had only reminded him of one thing: That Trahearne's strength and wonderful qualities were appealing to the enemy as much as they were to them, to _him_ , and that they needed to hurry if they meant to rescue him.

_"I couldn't leave Eladus!", the sylvari insisted and knelt beside his beloved, helped the sylvari up from the ground. "We dreamed of one another. To be in a word without Eladus would have hurt worse than death."_

Oh, the irony of fate. Back then, his very first day after awakening, Sgileas had wrinkled his nose and assessed the depth of emotion with disgust.

 Now he could see how very true the words were - and found that they spoke not only for the sylvari in his memory but for himself as well.

  _Please,_ Sgileas begged _, Pale Tree, let him be safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for all of you wondering if Sgileas would condone Tiv's meditation and what Sgileas would think about it: I believe his mind is too busy with Trahearne. Now, don't "Aww" me, because that's actually terrible and I can only imagine what kind of things go through Sgileas' mind when the uncertainty could mean that anything could have happened to Trahearne.  
> I also believe that Sgileas is very destination-oriented and would therefore not mind having someone that took the lead and pushed things along at a faster pace - so yes, he condones this, even if he finds it a little strange, if not unnerving.  
> Also, Tiv's powers are more centered and channeled, therefore being increased in power. This also helps palliate Sgileas ailments, which is a bonus factor for him.  
> Now then, I hope you enjoyed this one! Have a nice day! *flies off*


	52. In Their Footsteps Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Lamshire requested a Trahearne POV. I have granted your wish darling and I hope you are ready for the feels. I sure was not. This was so heart-wrenching to write. Why did you do this to me? Q_Q  
> I need a hug.

He had felt it nestling and bristling beneath his skin long before _The Call_ rattled through his mind as if reverberating through thin glass. It felt like a force that could easily shatter him from within, grasp into his mind, his body, his _very soul_ if it wished, to take and pull everything from him and leave him as nothing but a husk - but Trahearne was not _any_ sylvari, nor was he ignorant of the powers of the mind, especially his own.

 He knew that the force of the strike upon their minds was nothing but an illusion, that no free mind could be entangled and made subservient to a foreign will by coercion. A free mind was its own living, wild thing and only shackles could wear it down until the bearer forfeited it completely, and that is what most sylvari around them did when the heard the call because they knew no better.

It was warfare of the mind, inflicting and braising a fear into their minds that was as real as the lie that Mordremoth told.

"You are mine. It is time to come home."

Two lies and yet under the weight of the words, they all succumbed.

Trahearne shook the thought away as it spurted through his insides like acid, despair eating its way into him. They were losing them, the Pact, their brothers, and sisters, all those sylvari that had banded together to fight in the name of the Pale Tree, their mother, in the name of the world, their family, their loved ones -

  _Sgileas_.

The force upon his mind fractured and was ground into sand that drifted away as if by a breeze of the wind and he whirled around, the sympathetic call of the sylvari around him quelling into an endless ache, but his entire being was only on this one thing, this one sole thing that mattered more than his own ability to breathe.

 The realization that Sgileas might be lost, that _The Call_ might have overwhelmed Sgileas ground into him harder like a dulled knife that twisted in his gut. When his eyes finally fell upon the Necromancer he saw that Sgileas had bowed forward, gasping, hands clawing into the side of his skull as if to _tear_ the voice from his ears, and Trahearne reached out and yanked at Sgileas' arm before the Necromancer could harm himself.

"It's the Dragon.", Trahearne bellowed over the loud ring in their ears, over the explosions rippling through the sky, over the cries of agony and pain. "Fight it. It aims to possess us."

He blessed that his voice was firm even though his hand would have shaken was he not squeezing Sgileas' arm tightly. Sgileas purple eyes snapped up toward him, eyebrows drawn in as if he did not understand, pain etched into the tight clasp of his jaw. The Necromancer panted and groaned, so very clearly in pain that Trahearne could not stand it. He needed to reach out, to help, to alleviate at least some of it -

 He could not lose Sgileas to the Dragon. He… _wouldn't_.

One second Sgileas clenched his jaw, eyes shutting tight and then he curved forward, letting out a cry that was a mixture of agony and frustration, _fighting_ and _losing_.

Trahearne pulled him in despite knowing that if Sgileas turned, he would kill him. Mordremoth would kill them both. He pressed Sgileas tightly against him, the tremble of the ship beneath his feet buckling through his knees when the reactor detonated somewhere far below. It was desperate, the way Trahearne's arms encircled Sgileas body, the way he squeezed the Necromancer tightly toward him, refusing to let go, refusing to give up-

 "Don't let it consume you.", Trahearne whispered into his ear, his voice shaking. "Stay with me."

 Sgileas stilled, tight and tense like the bark of a birch in the morning frost. Fighting. _Fighting_.

"Stay with me.", Trahearne begged once again, this time not able to summon the strength to keep the tremble from his voice, the fear, the sheer _terror_ of what would happen if.

If.

Sgileas' hands clutched his back, fingers digging in tightly into the leaves of his armor and he took a deep, shaking breath, then another, and another, and Trahearne let out a chocked sigh of relief. Sgileas was here with him, he was here, he was -

 Sgileas pulled away gingerly, blinking up at Trahearne as if he was uncertain as to what exactly had transpired, but with a determination that could not be mistaken for anything else but the certainty that they would resist and fight Mordremoth - even if.

 If.

"I'm fine.", Sgileas told him and Trahearne gave a curt nod, releasing the breath he had not known he had held. His shoulder relaxed, the tension leaving his body and a new depth of emotion entered him - the very same clarity that Sgileas' eyes reflected.

The deck shook dangerously and Trahearne took a step to balance himself, reaching out for Sgileas in case the Necromancer needed his assistance, but Sgileas seemed to have not only found his composure but also strengthened his resistance and will.

 A swarm of sylvari poured from the steps that lead below, raging and mad with a war-cry on their lips. They had their weapons raised and attacked all those that had been their comrades not moments ago - moments before _the Call._

Destiny's edge held on bravely, cutting down the sylvari as they attempted to push them back and Trahearne raised his scepter, threading the Necromantic abilities to summon Minions of his own that would act as a temporary defensive shield against the onslaught of Sylvari that was coming upon them in a swarm.

 "Hold them back!", he bellowed over the deck, his mind reeling and attempting to find a way out of this bloodbath - but there was only the one course of events that he saw.

They would fight until their death, and it was not a question of if they would die. It was an eventuality, not a possibility. There was no escape, not from the burning ship as it tilted toward the ground with the sails ablaze in a shifting wind, not when the jungle below loomed in a field of darkness and green that was but a promise of Mordremoth's spiderweb.

 They had to carry on. No matter the odds, no matter the certainty - Trahearne knew better than to trust rationality. He had _faith_. He had faith they would make it out alive, that by some miracle they would -

 The minions were slaughtered. Sylvari pushed through, held at bay only by Logan's and Sgileas' combined prowess at the very front. Eir's forehead was covered in sweat, the arrows of her quiver dwindling away, and Zojja was slowly coming to a shortage of breath and energy, her face contorted in frustration and exertion.

 With a swing of his scepter Trahearne send a grasp of dark magic to coil around a sylvari's neck and pulled it tight like a whip. The tail of the magic contracted, slicing into the sylvari's bark and severing the neck effectively before Trahearne pulled it back with a swing of his arm, lashing out once more. It snapped through the air with a sharp noise that he could barely hear over the roar of the engines below. The ship was clearly straining against gravity, metal vibrating beneath their feet more violently by the minute. Smoke filled the air with a sharp acid-like stench, Trahearne's eyes began to water and burn and the heat of the flames dragged closer, illuminating everything around them in a fiery red blaze.

The force of sylvari overwhelmed them, the sheer numbers simply too much for them to hold off - and one after another began to push through into the backline, one tackling Zojja and forcing her backward. Logan rushed to her rescue and Trahearne barely saw the blue corona of the guardian shimmer from the corner of his eye before he found himself face to face with an attacking sylvari.

 Red, mad, gleaming eyes met his own and he deflected the sword with his scepter, metal screeching over the hardened material and with a burst of his Shroud, he shredded into the sylvari in front of him, piercing holes into the body before the sylvari fell back.

He dodged back when a large greatsword swung in his direction and just a few feet beside him was Sgileas, pressed backward against the railing -

 Trahearne raised his scepter and pushed against the next blow, parrying it effectively and reaching forward with his hand, encumbering the sylvari's neck with his hand. He squeezed only the once, cold magic flowing from his fingertips into the bark beneath his hand, making it brittle like clay, and with a resounding shatter the neck broke apart under the force.

 There was the groan of metal, a sharp screech and scraping noise and the ship rattled violently under Trahearne's feet. Trahearne ducked reflexively when a large vine broke through the deck just inches from where Sgileas stood and was forced to watch the Necromancer tumble backward into the railing, bending it significantly when his back impacted with the metal and then it gave way behind him and his body tilted back over the gap of air.

 Trahearne's chest squeezed, the world seemed to slow down, the second stretched and he heard his voice break off as he screamed, Sgileas' name on his lips breaking apart at the horror of what this meant, what it could -

 His Shroud broke free, slashing out wildly around him at anything and everything within reach and he dashed forward, arm extending out toward where Sgileas was falling backwards and by the grace of the Pale Tree, Sgileas' hand managed to reach out toward a protruding piece of metal to hold on, his body jolting to a halt before the dooming fall.

Trahearne crashed into the railing in his hurry, discarding his off-hand focus somewhere beside him to reach out for Sgileas. He bowed over the railing, the one hand that held his scepter simultaneously holding on to the railing, the arm that was stretched to reach out trembling at the effort of the strain he put upon it to _reach_.

Sgileas had thrown away his scythe to reach up toward him, gritting his teeth to reach up toward him and Trahearne felt only the desperate pull of what could only be their Souls as they _screamed_ that he needed to reach out, that he _needed_ to grasp Sgileas' hand and pull him up because, because, _because_

"Grab my hand.", Trahearne said and it was all the supplication he managed, his fingertips brushing gingerly, barely, _scarcely_ against Sgileas' own when he felt a force grasp around him and pull him away. He gasped and turned around in panic, raising his scepter just in time to block the slice of a blade, but the force had him pressed tightly against the railing, upper body leaning over it just slightly.

Trahearne pulled in his arms to push against the attacking sylvari, gritting his teeth and squinting his eyes, summoning all the strength he had to push the offender off of him when beside him another sylvari approached.

 But the sylvari was not looking at him.

"No.", Trahearne said, disbelieving, pleading, but the sylvari raised his blade, dark, red eyes fixed on Sgileas who was holding on to only the piece of metal that was already strained, damaged and bent -

"No!", Trahearne screamed, but the sylvari pulled his arm back and with one curt strike, the blade swished through the air and cut into the railing, the force breaking it in two.

Trahearne turned his head and he saw Sgileas' face the moment it happened, the moment Sgileas realized what was happening, the moment as it dawned upon Sgileas features that he would _fall_.

"Sgileas!", Trahearne cried, but Sgileas fell down, down, _down_ , body growing smaller and smaller and then disappearing into the canopy beneath. Trahearne stood with his mouth open, his heart and mind - everything had suddenly stalled and refused to act, to _react_ , to function, and even when his body was shoved toward the side and he landed painfully on his side he only blinked at the metal under his palms in confusion before he slowly lifted his gaze toward the towering sylvari that surrounded him.

He gasped when he felt something rattle through his body, breaking and fracturing through his back like an echo of a memory and his Shroud made a gasping hissing noise, flailing wildly only once before suddenly sinking back into his skin as if it had been quenched and lost all air to breathe.

 Trahearne felt asphyxiated. His breath was taken, his body was but a husk because his mind was blank and empty and he was powerless to stop the tears fill his eyes.

 One sylvari stepped forward with a broad, wide grin and red, crazed eyes opened wide. "You are mine.", the sylvari said, and Mordrmeoth's voice droned in Trahearne's head.

When Trahearne lowered his head and closed his eyes, a single tear trickled over his cheek and he surrendered himself to his fate.

 

 

 

 

 

  


 

 

* * *

 

Everything happened in a blur of moments. It all seemed to only pass by in a haze, a bad dream that Trahearne wished he could wake up from, but the hollow, deep echo of the pain inside him remained and his own Shroud seemed to wail out in the absence of its counterpart - flailing helplessly in agony and uncertainty.

 _The Glory of Tyria_ was pierced by vines that stopped its fall and the ship rattled to a halt mid-fall, the canyons and wide, gaping abyss below almost calling out to him, but Trahearne was deaf.

A rough hand grasped around his upper arm and pulled him to his feet, forcing him to stumble over the deck. For a few brief moments his mind was too numb to realize his predicament before the despair and the knowledge of his loss twisted into their own kind of frustration, wrath and _burning hatred_.

He pulled at his arm, lashing out with raw and bare power that was uncontrolled and unrefined as it had only ever been the very first days of his awakening, and the lashes of his Shroud were sharper than the blade of a scalpel, cutting in a whirl around him and slicing apart every foe in reach.

The sylvari moved in unision, swarming down on him and he fought back, Shroud hissing loudly and defiantly and he pushed against those that forced him down against the ground. A blade poked against the soft bark against his throat and he glared up at the sylvari that stood atop of him, various weapons pointed down toward him and many more sylvari hands baring him down.

"Marshal!", a voice called that he recognized as Eir's, but he was deaf to her call.

They had _killed_ Sgileas. They had taken and killed him, taken him from this world -

A Mordrem Guard pressed through, larger and broader than the rest of the sylvari, large shoulders bumping through with careless arrogance. The Guard sauntered closer, dark yellow eyes squinting down at Trahearne and behind the Mordrem Guard was the silhouette of a dark mask, shifting in the trails of the air in sworls and woven lines that passed by as if it was an image from a passing nightmare.

The sylvari that stood above him was shoved aside roughly and the Guard placed one heavy foot atop Trahearne's chest, pressing him down against the metal floor. "The Dragon commands your obedience.", the Guard said and Trahearne glared upward in answer, for once in his life not caring to hide his wrath and anger. He'd lived a reserved, composed life, the Pale Tree always the center of his mind as a calming, steady pulse that had eased all of life's uncertainties. Then had come Sgileas and he'd felt complete, fulfilled at last, and now, both had been ripped from him.

Who was Mordremoth to _demand_ anything from him?

"Your Master holds no power over me.", Trahearne seethed in a voice laced with a dark echo that reverberated over the ship and in the wake of his unrestrained power, even the sky seemed to darken.

"Stubborn child.", Mordremoth's voice came, echoing powerfully in the containment of Trahearne's mind. "You are mine. I am your Creator."

"Then we are of faulty design," Trahearne hissed, "For in creating us, you have forged your demise."

"Your resistance is admirable.", Mordremoth whispered into his mind and the words alonge tangled like vipers in their nest, poisoning his mind. "But see, you are _mine_ not in _making_ , but in _taking_."

Trahearne frowned at that, confused, before Mordremoth continued, "Resign yourself. Resign yourself to me and _he_ lives."

"You lie.", Trahearne breathed, all winds that had stoked the fires of his rage extinguished. "He's-"

An image filled his mind, his thoughts, his body - he was not on the ship any longer, he was the roots, the trees, the jungle, the very dirt that surrounded root and ants and served as fertile ground for all the fauna. It blurred by fast, graces of the land that were nothing but strokes of green from the corner of his eyes before he jolted to an abrupt halt, just inches away from a small crater that lowered into the ground where the familiar pulse of magic came in waves of incessant heat, reaching out toward him in pleading carress. A body lay splayed upon the parched earth, sap oozing in a puddle of gold beneath the body and the chest moved barely just once -

Trahearne was forced back and his body seemed to slam into the ship, his breath heaving with every breath. Sgileas. He was, he was bleeding out, he was in the jungle, breathing, _by the Pale Tree,_ Trahearne needed, he had to, how would he -

Mordremoth chuckled and Trahearne looked up, torn, frightened, and when he realized this was what Mordremoth had wanted, that Mordremoth meant to inflict indecision, trepidation, to force a decision based upon Trahearne's despair, Trahearne knew he had to fight the Elder Dragon with its very own methods.

It took all of Trahearne's strength. It took all of his will-power, and it tore his soul apart to say the next words, not knowing what consequences they would yield, but he knew that if Sgileas were here the Necromancer would smile at him for remaining on his course, for remaining diligent and viglitant even to his very last breath.

 _Forgive me_ , Trahearne begged Sgileas even if he knew that the Necromancer could not hear.

Mordremoth noticed the shift of Trahearne's eyes from despair and uncertainty into determination and growled, the ground giving a reverberating shake in answer.

"I will never surrender to you.", Trahearne whispered and the Guard above him scowled at the words, and Trahearne did not even feel the punch that connected with the side of his head and rendered him unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even while being tested and put on a trial such as this, I imagine Trahearne would be strong enough to resist any temptation Mordremoth throws at him, even the alleged promise of his lover's life. After all there is no certainty that Mordremoth is speaking the truth (1), nor is there certainty that Mordremoth would keep his word (2), and even if it were true, Sgileas would _want_ Trahearne to resist no matter _what_ (3) and Trahearne knows that (4).  
>  All of those reasons are not in the chapter because it should be obvious from Trahearne's strong personality already, but I felt I should spell it out anyway. There was no way I was going for the "I will do anything for my lover's life"-route. Not with Trahearne.  
> Do you agree? Do you disagree? Let me know in the comments!  
> Now I am off to eat some ice-cream and cry into my cup of coffee.


	53. Prisoners of the Dragon Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.....this will be exciting. I am not telling why, go see for yourself.  
> Hehe.

Braham knew something was wrong. He and Rytlock had scouted ahead for only a day, and they'd found a promising lead - and sure enough, their faith in their companions that they could find them proved true.

The Tribune was brusque and rather quiet, but Braham found that was rather enjoyable. They'd both managed to cut their way through any enemy that had dared to cross them and he'd learned to watch out for Rytlock's strange new abilities just as well.

Sometimes the Tribune would disappear from sight completely, his body manifest only by a blur of grey as he zapped in and out of place around an enemy - fast enough to land multiple strikes the enemy could not hope to deflect.

But when the others finally joined something was…off. _Wrong_.

When he saw Tivon approach the Druid seemed…relaxed, at ease, solemn. As if Tivon did not really recognize him. There was no knowing smile, no question or worried glance…just evergreen eyes staring blankly at him in emotionless assessment.

As if they were not looking for Destiny's Edge, as if they were not looking for the leaders of the Pact, as if their friends were not in mortal danger. As if they were making a stroll through a park happily and merrily.

The others followed behind the Druid. Taimi in her large golem that somehow managed not to wake up the entire jungle with its thunderous steps and Rox being the last to emerge, or so Braham thought, when from the thicket another figure emerged, stumbling closer and leaning on Tivon's staff at Canach's side.

“Commander.”, Rytlock was the one to utter in dumb-founded surprise.

“Rytlock.”, Sgileas greeted in return with a nod of his chin and even Braham could see the wear and the dark rings under the Necromancers eyes. “It is good to see a capable face.”

Rytlock chuckled at that in a low rumble that emitted from his chest. “I could say the same. You are a sight for sore eyes.”

Sgileas' mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of words from a charr in a blindfold.”

Braham grinned at that, but all mirth was taken when Tivon cut in, “What happened?”, the Druid asked. The guardian let his gaze wander over Tivon and he felt it again…something was _off_. He didn't necessarily mean the strange spread of warmth in his belly, no. That was something he knew, even if he did not want to think about what it meant.

“We spotted a Mordrem prison caravan. We followed it and it led us to this camp.”, Braham explained and glanced at Rox questioningly who clasped her claws together in front of her chest as if in prayer and lowered her head and Braham realized what she meant.

Tivon had meditated. He'd sunken back into that cold, unsympathetic place where nothing and nobody seemed capable of reaching him.

_"Why?",_ Braham wanted to ask, but all he managed was a frown and to open his jaw a fraction when Rytlock cut in.

“No risk, no reward.”, Rytlock shrugged and Tivon's ever-green eyes gazed toward the Tribune instead, the icy stare lifting from Braham. “I made the call, Eirsson backed me up. We thought it was worth the risk. We were right.”

“How heavily defended is this camp of yours?”, Sgileas asked and dragged himself closer, the staff dragging with a scrap over the parched ground and Canach followed him quietly, almost absent-mindedly.

"Very." Rytlock grumbled in an answer. "The Mordrem Guard are not mindless. They set up a strong defensive perimeter, and they know how to patrol it."

Canach interjected. His onyx eyes had dragged up the passage ahead where a pair of stairs was embedded into the side of the rocks, leading upwards into a small tunnel. “Brimstone is right. The Mordrem Guard are sharp. Precise. They must know we're coming.”

"That doesn't matter now.", Tivon said and made to move toward the stairs. "There are prisoners here and our friends might be among them. We're going in." With one last glance over his shoulder, Tivon addressed Rytlock, "Thanks for backing up Braham, Tribune." Rytlock only nodded, frowning slightly.

"What's your assessment of the situation here?", Sgileas asked as they ascended the stairs, following after Tivon's brisk pace. Braham sauntered after them, keeping close to Rox, Frostbite, and Kota. Vail was sailing somewhere over their heads, but Braham was not paying the Raven any mind.

“This seems to be a large-scale prisoner containment camp.”, Rytlock explained as the heavy plates of his boots scrapped over the stone stairs. “The Mordrem Guard goes out, collects living and dead bodies, and brings them here.”

“Then this is where they grow all the Mordrem we've been fighting?”, Kas wondered aloud and shuddered. “Part prison camp, part minion factory.”

“Right.” Rytlock agreed with a curt nod. “There's no easy access, but at least one member of Destiny's Edge is here. I can…feel it.”

“Feelings?”, Sgileas asked with a raised eyebrow. “From a soldier like you?”

"You could try it sometime, Commander. You'll find it's not so bad.", Canach chirped and Sgileas gave the secondborn only one curt glare before switching back to Rytlock. 

Rytlock growled. “Cut me some slack. I'm still getting used to this new magic and…how to describe it. From what we heard the Pact's a real mess. How'd you make it out?”

Sgileas' face hardened. “After the _Call_ , everything fell apart around us. The sylvari turned against us and our ships descended from the skies due to sabotage and damage from the vines. During our battle I…fell from the ship."

 Thankfully, Rytlock didn't comment on it. He was a soldier who knew better than to show sympathy or pity to Sgileas. “What of Destiny's Edge? Or Trahearne?”

“There were fighting alongside me, but I lost sight of them. I am as clueless as you.”

“It's a miracle you survived.”, Rytlock said, his voice low and honest. It was a tone Sgileas was not used to from the Tribune, not filled with such sincerity.

"Tivon healed me." The Necromancer glanced up toward the Druid who was at the head of the group still, leading up the stairs with stern pertinacity. "I doubt I could have kept myself alive much longer." The silence dragged on, and Rox used the window of opportunity to engage in a conversation with Braham.

 "You said you'd scout ahead, not barge into enemy territory.", Rox said but in her voice was no admonishment, only a little mirth. "You had us worried, you know."

 "Who?", Braham asked. "You, Taimi and Tiv?"

Rox nodded and glanced up at Tivon, realizing why Braham had mentioned Tiv with a little bit of reluctance. "He was worried too."

“Why'd he meditate?”, Braham asked directly and she looked away sheepishly.

"Jory convinced him.", she murmured and her claw tangled around one of her luck charms, but Braham's gaze did not linger.

 Braham turned around toward where Jory was behind him, but the Necromancer did not show any sign of rue. She met his gaze evenly. “He said it helped him focus his mind.”, she replied in her defense.

"She did not force him, Braham.", Kas soothed beside her. He liked Kas just fine, but right now when she took Jory's side in this matter he didn't. "He did it of his own accord."

“ _But he isn't the same_.", Braham wanted to reprimand her and instead of voicing it out loud as he watched Tivon's back and picked up his pace, slowly catching up with the Druid. Even though he knew Tivon could hear him Tivon didn't slow down and the Druid only cast a brief glance sideways when Braham walked abreast before looking straight ahead again. "You OK?", Braham asked and knew how stupid his question sounded, but it was all he could think of and he wanted, no, _needed_ a sign that things had not reverted to how awkward they had been back then.

“I am fine.”, Tivon replied evenly and Braham wanted to shake him, to rattle him awake from his solemn state of tranquillity. It wasn't _fine_. This _wasn't_ Tivon. They'd spent so much time together, they'd fought beside one another, they'd helped him slowly overcome this and become normal again.

Braham still felt the urgency; he wanted nothing more than to find his mother Eir, but he could not help but feel a sense of loss when Tivon seemed distant and unapproachable. It would take time for Tivon to revert back again, and Braham tried to console his own mind by telling himself that at least Tivon was save like this, that Mordremoth could not reach the Druid through his thoughts.

“What have you learned from the Itzel?”, Braham gleaned, still hoping beyond hope to elicit some reaction or emotion from Tivon. Something, _anything_ would be better than this…sobriety.

“Their Scouts have aided us in our search for you.”, Tivon answered and gestured toward a strange looking warhorn on his hip. Braham was not quite sure what the connection was and he didn't ask.

"Why'd you do it?", he asked instead because that was on his mind most of all.

 Tivon glanced over at him, but the ever-green eyes that had been sparkling with curiosity and fighting spirit seemed almost empty now. As if he didn't care. “I promised.”, Tivon said. “I have told you that meditation keeps my head clear.”

“'Clear' being another word for apathetic, I take it?”, Braham said more sharply than was most likely necessary, but _Spirits,_ he was _angry_.

Tivon regarded him thoughtfully. "It is a clear state of mind, Braham.", Tivon said and when he said his name Braham felt only a new wave of fury welling up inside, washing everything inside him clean like an iron over a flame. "Mordremoth will find no purchase where I-"

 “I get it.”, Braham snapped, unable to take any more. “You're all aloof now. I get it.”

The moment of silence that followed was drenched in awkwardness and Braham didn't look back over his shoulder to meet Rox's disapproving stare, but he could feel it bore into his back.

“It's temporary.”, Rox tried to soothe, but Braham didn't care. He was not sure why, but he felt betrayed. If he'd not gone ahead to scout for Eir, Tivon would have never meditated, because _he_ would have stopped him. He blamed Jory for this. They'd finally had Tivon back, and now…

He clenched his hands into fists and tried to assert where his anger was coming from, why this was such a big deal. A voice in his head answered that he'd been happy with Tivon being back to normal, that he'd enjoyed the Druid smile wonderfully and brightly, that he had cherished his moments together with the Druid and felt they'd somehow drawn closer, blurring a line Braham didn't want to tread.

Now the line was gone and there was a wall there - and they would have to take it apart brick by brick.

“ _He's safe_.”, Braham tried to soothe himself before a voice whispered, treacherous and worrying, “ _The Pale Tree is gone and he's Soundless now. He's not safe. He's vulnerable, now more than ever.”_

_Spirits be damned_ , why was all of this so damned complicated? Why couldn't he just have Tivon back, why couldn't Eir be safe and alive, why did Mordremoth have to break everything apart? Why couldn't Tivon just-

“Braham.” Jory behind him said and he gave her only one menacing glare over his shoulder and continued onward, relishing the look of surprise on her face more than he cared to admit.

When they'd finally reached the top of the stairs Braham picked up his pace again, and Tivon came to a halt and actually waited. "Let me go first.", Braham said and took his mace and shield in hand and when he stood in front of Tivon he noticed once again how small Tivon was in comparison to him. He barely reached his shoulders and chest and around the Druid's neck, he could see the damned petal-pendant Tivon had never cared to remove.

 It brought it all back. Frustration, rage and anger, and he wanted to rip it from Tivon's neck and fling it down the gaping ravine.

Tivon lifted his hand and Braham froze for a brief moment, thoughts churning to a halt with a jolt and his eyes followed the motion with rapt attention until he saw the weaving, white lines that tethered them together.

It sizzled warmly, strengthening him and filling him with vigor and then Tivon gave a nod. "Of course.", he said and gestured for Braham to take the lead. Braham tore his eyes away and stomped into the cavern, barely even bothering to glimpse around or to assess. He was angry. Angry at the dragon, at Jory, at Tivon, at _himself_.

Voices swept to Braham's ears, but he barely registered what they were saying.

“Faster! The Overseer's orders come straight from the dragon.”, a voice said harshly and Braham recognized the distortion it. “We need to be ready for the next load of corpses.”

The Mordrem were unlucky to be confronted with Braham in his state and even though Braham was reckless in his attacks and smacked down everything he could reach with his mace, there were still enough left for the others.

He saw Rytlock's strange magic flashing from the corner of his eyes, and Jory's large greatsword blinking in the light that filtered through the cave entrance as well as Kas' purple illusion magic.

Braham raised his shield just in time and felt the strike of the Mordrem's hammer vibrate through the metal and his arm and stumbled back a step. When he shifted his shield and raised his mace, ready to lunge forward, there was a ring of white that appeared beneath him and a flower blossoming from the ground rapidly. Braham did not manage to stop his movement in time and stepped into the ring and the blossom exploded beneath his feet.

There was a spark of white light, water sprinkled over him and filled him warmth and more vigor, rejuvenating his tense muscles. The Mordrem seemed just as perplexed and didn't even dodge Braham's mace and the strike had the Mordrem flying against the cave wall with a crunch.

 When Braham turned around he saw Tivon and Sgileas at the very back, the Necromancer leaning against the wall while Tivon was lowering his staff slowly, his green eyes glowing in the darkness.

Braham expected him to smile. He wanted Tivon to smile at him, to show him they were a team, that he'd have his back, but Tivon made no gesture nor move. The Druid only turned away and that gave way to Braham's frustration, his teeth grinding together with a creak.

The cave ended in a path leading toward a clearing that was full of Mordrem, none of them having been alerted just yet."This is where they pile up the dead prisoners.", Rytlock murmured quietly, his eyes gazing around the field. "If we can do enough damage to this facility, it'll disrupt Mordremoth's progress in the whole region." When Tivon made to move forward, Rytlock stretched out Sohothin, stopping the Druid in his tracks. "Hold up. There's too many Mordrem Guard ahead. If we engage, the noise will alert the entire camp. This looks like a Mordrem Guard bivouac. Close enough to guard the cages and to rally at the mustering ground. I figure the Mordrem Guard muster here before rolling out in force to collect prisoners and corpses."

 “We overcame worse odds while you were off in the Mists. We can handle this.”, Braham said, twirling his mace with a twist of his wrist.

“I'm with Braham.”, Tivon said, much to his surprise. “You haven't seen the team in action yet, Tribune.”

“I only caught a glimpse.”, Rytlock grumpily admitted. “Fine, cub, we'll have it your way.”

Braham didn't know why Rytlock called him a cub; he was taller than the charr after all, but he didn't argue and charged forward. The tether sizzled at the stretch and he felt something warm at the back of his back as he jumped in with a loud cry - gaining the attention of all the Mordrem around them.

He jumped high, pulling his mace back and bringing it forward, smacking it hard against the side of a Mordrem's head. When his feet landed they almost thundered and the impact jolted through his body. He crouched toward the ground, raising his shield in front of him protectively and pushed the shield forward, creating a large dome around himself that glowed blue. The shield of absorption rippled when the arrows cascaded in volleys against the magic, nullified instantly.

Rytlock followed shortly after, charging in with Sohothin and disappearing from sight as he zapped toward an enemy, the Mordrem cut apart at the wrist, shoulder, back, then the head. To the right Jory swung her greatsword in a large arc, a massive blast of dark magic exploding in a burst of icy spikes, freezing those Mordrem around her, and Kas cast an illusion of herself that twirled and gyrated with a greatsword in hand, cutting through the enemies Jory had frozen.

But when Braham lifted himself to his feet his eyes were glued on Tivon who took the left side with his staff in hand, Vail a trail of white above him. The Raven shot down, beak and claws sharply cutting at the Mordrem within range and Tivon smacked the blade away with a swing of his staff one-handed and jumped forward, his knee lifting and barrelling into the Mordrem's chest. The Mordrem promptly fell backwards and it looked like Tivon would fall to the ground atop the Mordrem, but he extended his free hand, planted it on the ground and cartwheeled with one hand alone, bringing himself to stand once again, the staff swinging beside him fluidly and gracefully, crashing into another Mordrem beside him.

Braham hadn't even realized he'd moved, already lunging forward and lifting his shield to protect Tivon's side when an arrow graced over his shield with a metallic screech. He lowered it and charged forward, mace lifted when he saw the Mordrem just a few meters away had lifted his bow again, pointing toward him with an arrow knocked in, and it wheezed through the air before he could lift his shield again. He watched the arrow fly, wondering only briefly where it would hit and how much it would hurt when he felt a brush of air on his shoulder and Tivon dashed past him, hand lifted into the air and caught the arrow with his fingers as he gyrated in a dancing manner in front of Braham. Tivon skittered to a halt with a jolt only briefly, easing his weight back and lunged, turned in the air and landed the arrow in the juncture of the Mordrem's neck with so much force it brought the Mordrem to succumb to its knees, and then Tivon tore the tip out with a vicious pull.

The Mordrem sunk down, sap gushing from the wound out onto the ground, but Tivon was already turning his head to Braham, gazing over his form and even though it was an assessing glance, Braham felt the warmth spread into his fingertips and his heart pick up speed.

 Tivon's eyes dragged over his broad chest and then met his eyes and for a brief moment their eyes locked, gaze lingering, tether weaving, sizzling, gravity unraveling between them, dragging Braham closer as if from a magnetic pull and then the voice of Rytlock broke through, shattering the moment apart.

“That felt good.”, Rytlock growled and rolled his shoulders and Braham had to force himself to avert his gaze and calm his pounding heart. “I haven't had a proper workout since I got back from the Mists.”

“Hey, about that:”, Rox caught on as she collected her arrows and lifted her gaze. “When are you going to 'fess up about how you got these new skills…sir?” The last she added when Rytlock gave her a glare.

“Maybe when Mordremoth or one of its leafy puppets isn't trying to kill us. Until then, stop asking.”, Rytlock grumbled, but no matter the sting of his words, Rox did not seem to take it personally.

"He's right. We have to focus on the mission.", Tivon agreed with Rytlock and the Druid was moving toward the edge of the cliff, brushing past Braham. For the Norn, the soft shift of leaves was swishing loudly in his ears and he had to force himself to not look after Tivon immediately when he passed by. "Right now we need to find a way off this plateau."

 Where the cliff seemingly ended was a slope that hugged the cliffside, leading upwards toward a large wall of vines. Across the path, however, were tendrils, thick and thorned, scattered over the whole area and the second the peeked around the corner they began to throw gunk at them that splattered against the rock and they all ducked away.

“Too many.”, Rytlock when he pressed himself tightly against the wall. “We can't afford to get bogged down here. We need something to clear the path.”

"There's airship wreckage scattered across the plateau. Let's see if we can scavenge some incendiaries.", Rox offered, but Tivon was stepping forward into the line of fire.

 “Braham.”, was all the Druid said and the command rattled through him, instantly setting him to motion. He lifted his shield, knowing well what Tivon asked of him and the Shield of Absorption rippled when the gunk thrown by the vines blinked from existence.

Tivon lifted his hand into the air, clenched it into a tight fist and then pulled it down toward the ground with a tremble running through his entire arm. Braham could hear him grit his teeth and hiss out a breath and then the effect of whatever it was that he was doing showed.

The tendrils began thrashing around wildly, quivering and quaking where they protruded from the ground and then from the tip downwards they _wilted_ and dried as if the very water and magic that kept them alive were pulled away. Some tendrils shivered in resistance before they too wilted into thick, useless strands of plant fiber, only to descend toward the ground and remain unmoving.

 "Well done Tiv.", Kas praised with a smile and Tivon only gave a curt nod and lowered his arm toward his side, his arm twitching one last time as if from a tremor.

 “We must be on the right track.”, Jory murmured behind them, but Braham did not glance back to her when he lowered his shield. “There's more Tendrils and Mordrem here than I ever remember seeing before.”

“Mordremoth knows we're here, but it doesn't seem concerned.” Canach said. “It's interested, but not…urgent.”

"It's hiding something.", Sgileas murmured, and Braham had almost forgotten the Commander was there. For some reason the Necromancer had stood back, not committing to the fight. Now that he cared to look he noticed that the Commander looked weary and in pain, figure hunched forward, each step dragging over the earth only barely. "There are only two reasons why Mordremoth would not care if we reach its prisoners or not."

 "They are either Mordrem or dead.", Canach spelled out, and Sgileas nodded curtly.

 Eir dead or Mordrem. No, Braham could not take that. "Then we must move.", he brought out and Ryltock cast him a knowing but guarded glance.

“The overseer stations himself nearby, between the corpse-staging ground and the live prisoner cages.” Rytlock cautioned as they moved up the slope and Tivon was once again taking the lead, the tether between him, Braham and Sgileas sizzling with electricity.

It was still unclear to Braham what kind of power the Druid actually possessed and where it ended. It seemed almost as if he was still going through a trial phase, merely discovering his potential. Before them, Tivon crouched down and signaled for them all to do the same and they approached as quietly as they could.

 “There's the overseer.”, Rytlock murmured in a low whisper. “I'm itching for a shot at him: I collected a lot more than my sword when I was in the Mists. I'd take point, but I'm still sorting out the voices in my head. This new spell arsenal of mine comes with…baggage.”

“I'll head in.”, Braham offered and rolled his shoulders, his weapons still in hand and did not wait for any voices of protest to arise. As he stepped out in the open the Overseer turned and squinted its ugly eyes at him.

“You made it this far?”, the Overseer asked, glancing somewhere behind him, most likely where Tivon and the others emerged. “Impressive. But you'll go no further, and you'll never leave.”

Braham didn't bother to reply. What was the use anyhow? The Mordrem only ever said what Mordremoth made them say, and all their words were meaningless. It only bothered him that the Overseer seemed to emit such confidence even when faced with all of them.

Braham blocked the blow the Overseer made, there was a rippling explosion of purple, the flash of Sohothin's bright yellow flame, a groan and then the Overseer was already falling to the ground in a heap.

“Enemy down…not that it did us much good.” Rytlock mentioned and kicked at the Mordrem's arm with a displeased expression. “This looks like a dead end.”

Sgileas pressed onward, each step seemingly agony and dark, purple eyes squinting up at the vine-wall. “Mordremoth's reacting to us, growing stronger defenses.” The Necromancer murmured thoughtfully. “But we can clear the path easily. Come on Rytlock.”

Rytlock growled and stepped forward. “Can do. Stand back."

They did and watched as Rytlock erected himself, lifted his free hand and summoned the dragon Glint once again, the blast of her massive wings causing a gust that washed over the wall of vines and tore it away with a loud crunch. Coppice and branches exploded and splayed somewhere beyond, giving a view on the path ahead.

 “Nice work, Tribune.” Jory said and stepped cautiously toward the edge of the cliff and glanced down. “I can see the camp below…way below. How are we going to get down there?”

“You glide, Tiv. I'll create portals along the cliff face for the rest of us.”, Kas suggested with a broad smile and showcased her staff.

"I hate portals.", Taimi murmured from within Scruffy. "They bring all of Scruffy's instrument in a jumble."

"You are welcome to take the ordinary route.", Kas grinned at her and Taimi pouted.

"Fine, fine."

Braham noticed that while Kas and Taimi bantered Tivon lifted his hands and brought the apparatus atop his shoulders into gear, fanning out the wings attached to the wooden framework.

“I'll lead the way and the rest of you can catch up as quick as you can.”, Tivon said curtly and before Braham could lift his hand or open his jaw to protest Tivon was running toward the cliff and jumped beyond.

For a sickening, heart-aching moment Braham watched as Tivon seemed to fall for a moment, dropped and then the glider opened with the movement and sound of a sail catching wind and then the Druid was gliding down toward the ground.

Rox's hand atop his arm brought him back and her eyebrows were raised in question, not to mention the knowing smile playing at her lips that revealed her talons. “He's fine.”, she said soothed. “He's done this before.”

“I know he's fine.”, Braham snapped, but her smile didn't waver. It was as if she knew something he knew just as well and refused to acknowledge and it was hurting his head to think that he knew that she knew that he knew. Kas beckoned them closer when the ring of purple shimmered beneath her feet.

"Come on.", Kas smiled and waded through first. Braham followed reluctantly after making a disgruntled noise that was meant to signal to Rox that he was _not_ was she implied, but Rox only chuckled and shrugged her shoulders, gesturing for him to go first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The moment Tivon jumped the tether sizzled, jumped erratically and seemed to tear at Sgileas and for a few agonizing moments Sgileas barely managed to contain his pained groan and grit his teeth, the pain that had been lulled by Tivon's spell ebbing back into his fibres with blinding, unyielding force.

His back ached, his body wanted to hunch forward and he forced himself to stand tall, just long enough to see the flicker of Kas' portal, the purple and pink glow illuminating the ground in a round, bright circle, and the figure of the females disappeared, the norn, the charr, and then Sgileas arms trembled and his hands clutched the staff so hard he felt as if he was drawing out the fibres.

 For a moment he wavered, shifted, and then he fell forward. He felt the sensation, wondered what the impact would feel like this time, if he could break apart again when a pair of strong arms encumbered him, holstering his body and keeping him upright.

 "Easy there, Commander.", Canach said and Sgileas dug his fingers into Canach's forearms. Not to hurt him, no, but to hold on. His arms were trembling and his knees seemed to knock together and when he attempted to lift his head nausea overwhelmed him.

"I'm fine." Sgileas said automatically and Canach snorted.

"Do you even hear yourself?"

Sgileas listened. He could hear himself panting heavily and grit his teeth. "I'm _fine_.", he emphasized. He needed to be fine, he couldn't be anything _but_ fine. He needed to be strong to best Mordremoth, to best this jungle and all its treacherous paths and challenges, to restore himself back to his prior state to eradicate the Elder Dragon from existence, to save Trahearne.

"Lie all you want,", Canach snapped and adjusted his grip, pulling one of Sgileas' arms over his shoulders and lifted the Necromancer up slightly, easing most of his weight onto his own shoulders. "But do it quietly. I can't stand to be forced to read between the lines. It's exhausting."

"I don't want you to,", Sgileas snapped, anger flaring up. Thankfully the anger was helping alleviate some of the pain, so he continued as Canach all but carried him toward the portal. "Just believe me and shut it."

"I can't do that,", Canach said with a chirp. "We'd both miss my voice terribly."

"I hate you.", Sgileas hissed as a last resort, the pain rendering his brain blank.

"I know." Canach replied with a smile and then the portal blinked around them.

 

 

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Using portals was…strange. It always seemed to upset Braham's stomach, but only for a few brief moments. There was always a moment of nausea that lifted slowly and when he looked back he noticed that none of them looked all-too-happy using it.

They waited for a couple of seconds until Canach and Sgileas passed through simultaneously, Sgileas arm clutching around Canach's shoulders for support. The Necromancer was breathing raggedly and Canach eased the Commander to the ground gingerly with a neutral expression that was _too_ guarded to be nonchalant, and even Braham saw the worry astutely hidden beneath a shawl of indifference.

Tivon's tether. It must have snapped because of the distance.

Said Druid came rushing toward them, having landed a little bit further off, and Canach stepped aside to let Tivon work his magic. Tivon knelt down beside Sgileas instantly, a gilded light formed in the Druid's palms and he rested them atop Sgileas' chest, forming soothing, rhythmic circles for a few minutes that stretched painfully long, testing Braham's already strained sense of patience.

“Canach's looking greener than usual.”, Kas said and disrupted the tense silence, perhaps a tad too loud because Canach heard and threw her a sharp look, dark, onyx eyes squinting.

“You try falling from portal to portal while an Elder Dragon buzzes in your skull. See how green you get.”, Canach snapped at her.

She blushed and turned away sheepishly, not daring to argue. When Sgileas' breath finally evened out and he accepted Tivon's hand to pull him up to stand, Rytlock finally said,

“This is where they keep the live prisoners.”

That set it in his mind. Braham was determined and his intuition said that Eir was here, that she was nearby. She was only a few more meters away, he could feel it. “We'll get you out of here, Mom.”, he whispered more to himself. “I swear it.”

Sgileas, who seemingly had not heard him, began, “I'm not hearing the dragon's voice as strongly or as often, but I know it's here.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “It's up to something.”

“Mordremoth loves surprises…especially when it's surprising sylvari with the fact that its thoughts seem like our own.”, Canach murmured darkly, eyes gazing out toward their destination.

“Those vines there…those are cages.”, Rox noticed.

“Let's bail them out.” Braham was moving, pushing forward without being bid, and rushed in. Despite his reckless attempt the Mordrem still barely had time to prepare for their assault and one Mordrem Sniper cried,

“There are enemies in the camp!”, but was interrupted by one of Rox's arrows that pierced through its throat. Mordrem came rushing toward them in waves, Thrashers and Wolves and Mordrem Guards, Snipers and Tendrils all alike, but their group fought through them with precision until nothing but the cages remained.

Braham gripped the vines of the prison and tore them away, Rytlock standing beside him doing the same. Inside he could see someone cowering and when the person looked up, he realized it was a sylvari that had turned.

Before the Mordrem could act on any impulse to attack him a sharp vine struck from below, impaling the sylvari instantly, and Tivon slowly lowered his hand with a grim expression.

“Gods.”, Kas murmured. “Some must have been stuck here and had no other option.”

“There is always another option.” Canach argued hotly.

“Another one here!” Rox interrupted. Taimi was already pulling apart the vines with Scruffy and Braham moved and dug his hands in, tearing vine after vine apart, not caring for the thorns as they pierced into his hands and when he finally caught a glimpse of who was inside, he froze.

It all just…suddenly came to a halt and the figure inside even seemed to smile up at him. "You." Braham said, disbelievingly, empty for just a bare, stark moment before anger and rage welled up, coiling and boiling to the point of pain and he grabbed inside and lifted the figure from the prison into the air, large fingers curling around the sylvari's throat and coppice splintering off to the side.

 "Braham!" Rox exclaimed, but Braham was deaf to her cry, thinking it was in outrage at his action. It only later occurred to him that it was a cry of warning. All that he concentrated on was the tight hold his fingers had around the sylvari's throat, the surprising amount of satisfaction he felt when the sylvari gasped and withered under his constricting hold, but the next second he felt vines curling around him from behind, pulling tightly around his chest and jolting him back with a powerful launch. With a huff, he stumbled backward and the sylvari fell from his grasp, landing on his feet and grasping his throat with a gasping choke, coughing out a few breaths.

 Vail cawed above their heads as if he demanded Braham to try again, to squeeze _harder_ this time, but the Norn was out of reach.

“Braham.” a voice behind him reprimanded and Braham realized it was Tivon's. It was Tivon's, but then again…not. Braham glared over his shoulder at where Tivon stood, skin bristling.

"He's-!" he began in outrage, but the calm of Tivon's features remained. If anything, Tivon squinted his eyes slightly like a parent that disapproves of their child's behavior.

 “I know.” Tivon said sharply and cut him off.

The commotion had brought all their attention toward the figure and after rubbing his throat for a few more moments, Derwen erected himself slowly, rolling his shoulders back and tilting his head as if stretching. He looked relaxed despite the fact that five pairs of eyes glared at him angrily, and one pair of hands had tried to strangle him not moments ago.

“Well.” he murmured, smile curling around the corners of his mouth. “Isn't this awkward.”

 

 

 

 

   
  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DERWEN IS BACK. I hope you are ready for his awesomeness and his schemes, and all the feels that will be involved. I'll take you on a roller coaster ride from here on out. You better strap on your belt and hang on tight. *mischievous laugh*


	54. Prisoners of the Dragon Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long, exciting wait...here you go! Enjoy! :D

How _interesting_. Of all the people to appear he had not expected the group of misfits to arrive to save the world once again. Derwen was still rubbing his throat, knowing well that the imprint of the Norn's fingers would leave an impression he'd not be able to forget sometime soon, but despite his rather close encounter with a rather angry Norn, he couldn't help but smile at the twist of fate.

Behind the Norn, carefully stepping forward, was…

Derwen had to make a double-take to be sure, but yes, the sylvari stepping out from behind the large Norn _was_ Tivon. The resemblance in the features was there, in the sure, steady and nimble stride, in the slight sway of his skinny shoulders…and the petal pendant hanging around his neck.

Wonderfully goodhearted and guillable Tivon.

Derwen tried to ignore the tingle that went over his bark.

"Hum.", Derwen made and didn't bother to hide his interest when he glanced Tivon up and down, smirk widening as he caressed Tivon with his eyes alone. "Black suits you, I must say."

"This one is Nightmare Court." Canach said, and Derwen recognized him only from the few times he'd seen him, and mostly from the memories gathered from the Dream. "Should I kill it?"

Beside Canach, standing like a shadow conjured from Grenth's mantle himself -

Oh.

_Oh_ , will you look at _that_.

"Commander." Derwen smiled, completely ignoring the secondborn's threat as if the words were nought but blown, empty air. Sgileas was looking more grim and stern than usual - no, not stern, but _anguished_. He was in pain from some wound…

Ah, but of course.

The Pact had been defeated, had it not? Sgileas must have barely made it out alive.

"The Commander on a cane? Who'd have thought I'd ever live to see the day."

The large Norn stomped forward looking ready to tear his head from his shoulders with bare hands, fury etched into his features. "Let me redeem that." Braham hissed and Tivon moved _fast_ , so fast in fact that even Derwen barely managed to hide his surprise. The Ranger moved in between, one hand on Braham's arm, the other splayed over the Norn's upper abdomen because he could not reach toward the Norn's chest without looking foolish, pushing gently but firmly against the raging Norn. Most certainly Braham could have easily pushed Tivon away, could have lifted and thrown the Ranger as easily as a arid fire-wood, but the Norn halted and stared down at Tivon in disbelief.

"Braham." Tivon said sharply and Derwen could not see his face, but he imagined the green eyes squinting. He _longed_ to see that face, so see Tivon angry, to see another emotion beside those he'd already seen. "We are _not_ enemies. Not here, not now."

"Are you-" Braham was about to shout, but the female Charr was at their side, her eyes supplicating Tivon to see reason.

"Tivon, he is the one-" She began, but Tivon took a step back from them, lifting his hand sharply into the air.

" _Mordremoth_ is our enemy." He said, and Derwen's fingertips tingled to hear how sharp Tivon's voice had become. "We can not afford to spill the sap of any sylvari not under the Elder Dragon's influence."

"He is Nightmare Court." The female human with bright golden hair said with a hiss, her eyebrows furrowing into a stern, questioning line. "Tivon, he's _evil_."

Tivon glanced over toward where Sgileas stood, clearly asking for counsel or opinion, and the Commander took a deep breath. "Mordrmeoth can not be allowed to gain any more minions.", Sgileas said slowly and reluctantly.

"We could burn his body." Jory proposed, her dark eyes unflinching and uncompromising. "The Itzel do it."

Braham nodded feverishly. "Yeah. Burn him."

Tivon seemed to ponder for a moment and then turned to face Derwen who had waited patiently, smile never wavering despite the circumstances of his death being discussed so openly. "Is there anything you wish to say?" Tivon asked, but something in the Ranger's tone didn't imply _Tell me you are sorry for what you did._ No, it was different. It was serious, as if Tivon was regarding him like a stranger, as if their past had not cut into him deeply.

_Interesting_.

With a move of his wrist Derwen conjured his staff from thin air, dispelling the magic that had clouded and hidden it from sight and leaned on it, tilting his head slightly toward the side as if pondering his next words, even though he'd already chosen them. "Despite Mordrmeoth's best efforts, it can not break me." Derwen began, his eclipse-like eyes shining brightly in the shadow of the canopy. "I am here to deal with a personal matter, an agenda, if you will."

"If you are after the Elder Dragon, I suggest you get in line." Canach replied dryly.

"Yeah. Plus, you got captured." Braham snorted and Derwen rolled his eyes theatrically.

"I _let_ myself get captured." Derwen correctly curtly. "Why else would I be in posession of my staff?"

"Are there other Nightmare Courtiers here?" Tivon interjected quickly.

"Possibly." Derwen shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you do with them is none of my concern. My goal is to deal with Mordremoth, preferably permanently, but I am flexible."

"And why would we trust you?" Kas spat, her eyebrows drawn into a furious snarl. Her hand curled tightly around the shaft of her staff as if she _itched_ to release a spell at him.

"Because," Derwen said and gave Kas a sharp glare in return, "I do not like when someone tries to order _me_ around."

"Then you can go your own way," Kas continued unompromising. "We don't need you and we certainly won't let you tag along."

Derwen shrugged his shoulders and played his ace. "I know where Destiny's Edge and Trahearne are, but suit yourself."

The silence that followed, even for just a few mere seconds, was delicious and savory, and he watched with glee as the desperation broke out among them like silent starvation.

Sgileas tried to hide it, he really did, but his body tensed and his eyes squinted into a line of flashing purple and Braham came forward once again, looking ready to do some most unspeakable things, even brushing past Tivon as he did.

"Tell us." The Norn growled and towered over him. " _Now_."

Intriguing. Why did the Norn have such a strong reaction to everything? He wore his heart on his sleeve, or so it would appear. Even more curious was that only Tivon dared to intervene and that Tivon's arm atop the Norn's upper arm eased Braham's tensions and brought his furious focus to diverge.

Derwen regarded Braham for a moment longer, chin lifted defiantly before his eyes dragged toward Tivon again. The Ranger looked calm and collected, and it was only then that Derwen wondered _why_. He'd expected drama, tears, possibly fear at the resurfacing memories and the pain. But not indifference, not apathy.

"Speak truth." Tivon said, green eyes firm and stern, and Derwen met his gaze evenly. "Do you really know where they are?"

"Yes." Derwen said and switched his staff into his other hand, shifting his weight. "We were in the very same prison caravan, as a matter of fact."

"Then why are you _here_?" Jory asked, and Derwen sighed. They were losing so much time on backstory, but if they needed it, he would provide it.

"I diverted the Guards' attention. If you haven't noticed, I _manipulate_ people and thoughts, and those of our enemy are no different. I had no desire to end up where the others did."

"Where. Are. They." Braham all but growled and Tivon slammed the butt of his staff into the gound, making it rumble and churn and vines conjured from the ground, startling Derwen. Well, a little. The vines sprouted into the air like tripwire, more of a warning than an immobilizing spell.

" _Enough_." Tivon said sharply toward Braham, and the Norn looked utterly confused and stricken, torn between desire and the sudden reaction his action had elicited. "Lead us to them.", Tivon ordered Derwen, and Derwen made a _tuting_ noise.

"I like a good bargain, Tivon." Derwen smiled. "You know that."

Tivon met his eyes evenly, but Derwen saw the flicker of memory pass in them for a bare moment - a moment he savoured because it was rare. "What do you want?", Tivon asked and for a moment Derwen was tempted, _very_ tempted, to say _You, as you were back then_ , but that would be fickle and completely short-term. No, Derwen was out for something larger, longer, more fulfilling.

"I will join your group." Derwen stated simply. "Until such a time that Mordrmeoth is defeated or beaten, there will be no action taken by any of those here against my person. Once the task is done, you may attack me however you like. But not until then." It would be _tedious_ if he was forced to watch his back at all given times. This group looked capable enough if they had made it this far, and it would be perfect to tag along to achieve his goal.

"Never," Kas hissed. "Do you really think-"

"Kas." Tivon said and gave her only one short glance before he sought Sgileas' eyes. The Necromancer was pondering, purple eyes fixed on the Mesmer that stood with his smile never wavering.

"You can't be serious." Kas gasped in disbelief, her voice but a rasp. "We can not seriously be considering this-"

Jory placed a hand atop Kas' shoulder. It was not necessarily to stop her but to soothe her, and the evidence that Jory felt the very same outrage at the situation was written across her pale features, leaving Kas' jaw to drop and her mouth to dry with no words left to speak.

After one moment longer of consideration, Sgileas lifted his chin. "If you lead us to Destiny's Edge and Trahearne," Sgileas said. "We will keep our end of the bargain." The _If you do not, if you are untruthful and mislead us, we will kill you_ , was left unsaid, but Derwen was no fool.

Kas' and Braham's outrage were not given a voice when Tivon gave a firm nod.

"Very well, Derwen." Tivon said, eyes cool and calm. "You are in."

Derwen smiled triumphantly up at Braham and watched with childish satsifaction as the Norn seemed to boil inside out, hands clenching into tight, trembling fists at the Norn's side.

Oh, this would be _fun._

 

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


_Shit_.

By Wolf's smelly breath and dirty paws, _what was Tivon thinking? What was Sgileas thinking?_

"Braham.", Rox said softly beside him and her voice was ll that kept Braham from screaming _This is unfair, this can't be happening, why are we trusting this monster?!_

"Just…", Braham breathed, glad that Tivon and the others were out of range. "What the fuck."

"He's…you know.", Rox murmured. Beside her were Kota and Frostbite, the two creatures glued together almost day and night, and both animals looked up at Braham questioningly as if they were watching a volcano that was about to erupt. "If the guy can show us where they are, we'll find Eir faster."

Braham _growled_. He didn't _want_ Derwen's help. What he wanted was to rip Derwen's head from his shoulders. What he wanted was to wrap his hand around Derwen's neck for all that he had done and watch the life blink from his eyes.

"It's temporary.", Rox continued. "You can kill him after. I'll keep my arrows poisoned And poised. And Frostbite's been itching to get his pincers on him. I bet Kota's the same, aren't you, boy?"

Kota gave a positive chirp in answer, black, round eyes fixated on the sylvari Memser ahead.

"I'll help too.", Taimi chirped as Scruffy made its thundering, long strides over the jungle floor. "But I would rather Scruffy did not get in the crossfire when-"

"I'll talk to him.", Braham cut in, putting the impulse into action before he could stop himself, and before Rox and Taimia could ask _Who, Tivon or Derwen?_ or even stop him, he was marching forward and brushed past Sgileas and Canach, past Kas and Jory and wanted to shove Derwen aside, but the Mesmer was already looking over his shoulder with an infuriating grin as he marched past and nimbly moved aside, giving Braham no oppertunity.

"Tiv.", Braham said, voice low. Tivon was at the head of the group wielding no weapon, but still leading as if it was the most natural thing to do. Vail on Tivon's shoulder was the first to turn around toward the Norn with a questioning glance, but even as the Raven gazed at him, Braham knew the Raven was on _his_ side. "A word.", Braham said and Tivon glanced back toward Derwen and gave the Mesmer a curt signal with his chin. Derwen only chuckled and marched past, not even casting them a glance and humming a cheery tune.

It was as if the Mesmer _wanted_ to aggrevate Braham and worst was, it was _working_.

Tivon waited until the others had passed by before he met Braham's gaze with an eyebrow raised in question.

"We can't trust him.", Braham finally let out when they were alone. "He could be under Mordremoth's influence for all we know."

"He said he resisted."

"Oh, and he hasn't lied before?", Braham snapped and Tivon met his gaze evenly and Braham _hated_ it. Tivon slowly moved again, slow enough to signal Braham to walk abreast with him and it was some consolation in this mess of things. "Tivon, he'll lead us into a trap. He's only after what he wants."

"There is nothing I can say that will appease your anger.", Tivon finally said after a few moments of silence, not giving Braham any way to vent his anger. "We are taking chances everywhere, everytime, everyday. How is this any different from scouting ahead? From talking to the Itzel? It is another _Chance_ that we _need_ to take. We have no certainty, and I agree that we can not trust him." Tivon took a deep breath, his eyes searching. "Kas?", he called and the female turned around, slowing down to wait for them before they traversed the thicket together. "Did you detect any lies?"

Kas sighed and shook her head. "It is hard to get a read on him, but as far as I can tell he is being truthful." Her eyes studied Tivon for a moment. "Are you sure about this? He's…,", she sighed, clearly at a loss for words, and she looked worn and tired, as if she was not able to built up the will-power to fight Tivon on his decision. Instead she asked, "Are you alright?"

To their surprise, Tivon was quiet, staring thoughtfully onto the ground ahead, eyes glued to the various roots and bases of trees they passed. "I…am not sure," Tivon finally admitted. "I did not think for it to affect me like this."

"Affect you how?", Kas asked softly, her eyes regarding him with worry, but Tivon shook his head.

"I will overcome this.", he said firmly. "Next time we make camp, I'll meditate with Jory."

"No.", Braham cut in before he had even thought about it. It had been an impulse so strong he had not even _thought_ of holding it back. "You said meditation makes you Soundless. You are not safe when you are Soundless. We'll put an end to this aloofness all-together. I can't stand it."

Kas' eyes seemed to melt when she looked at him, but Tivon only met his eyes evenly. "The Pale Tree is unconscious.", Tivon reminded him. "Whether I meditate or not is a question of emotional investment, not the Pale Tree's protection."

Braham clenched his jaw. It felt like being pushed away from all sides, to be disregarded in anything that he did. Tivon was his friend, damn the Spirits, Tivon was -

The Druid was looking at him with wonderful ever-green eyes, charcoal face drawn by bark and nicks, the branches that made up his hair twining and twisting to converge at the back of his neck almost as if they had been bound there, revealing two beautiful ears shaped with a curved tip. And there, dangling around his neck…

He was an idiot. A complete and utter, utter idiot. He knew that even as the impulse formed, even as the rage and anger boiled, even as the words slipped from his mouth without being bid. "It's him.", Braham snapped and his eyes blinked from the pendant resting around Tivon's clavicle to his eyes. "Its always him, isn't it."

And with that he marched on, stomped, almost, to Rox's and Taimi's side, and they looked at him worriedly but didn't dare ask.

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Canach didn't like him.

The guy already did not look very likeable, smug and grinning all the time as if he was winning before any battle had been decided and the air was stiffling to breathe with the whole team suddenly tensing by the Mesmer's presence.

Frankly Canach didnt know why, but he was clever enough not to ask, at least not now. He would do so later on a better occasion when things had cooled down a bit. His curious nature aside, he knew an enemy when he saw one, and this sylvari…

He was _dangerous_. The power wafted off of him, swirling in the air around him and that staff was not a mere lightshow. It was a weapon of power, pulsing with a soft glowing light and colors arching after it whenever Derwen moved it. That, however, was not all. That triumphant smile was no charade. Whatever Derwen had planned, all of this was part of it and going according to any scheme, Canach was sure of it. The Mesmer was a schemer, a tactician, a manipulator, and they would all be foolish to believe they had a handle on the Mesmer at all.

Beside Canach Sgileas suddenly spoke, "His name is Derwen.", Sgileas began out of the blue without being asked. "I do not know the details, but apparently, he and Tivon were…", he paused, whether because of uncertainty or a flash of pain, Canach could not tell, "…something.", Sgileas finished lamely.

"Why are you telling me this?", Canach asked with a raised eyebrow, hiding the fact that he was _startled_ and _confused_. How did someone like _Derwen_ choose someone like _Tivon?_ Ah, but that was hardly worth the time and energy that was spent processing that question, was it? "If you wish to bore me there are various other topics availiable."

"Don't pretend you were not gonna ask.", Sgileas snapped, and Canach wanted to grin at how well the Commander already seemed to have a read on him, but held it back.

"Alright.", Canach amended. "Let the gossip begin."

Sgileas rolled his eyes. "I am not here to _gossip_. I do not trust him and you would be foolish to underestimate him."

"Awww.", Canach made and gave Sgileas beside him a side-glance. "Are you worried about me?"

"Forget I said anything.", Sgileas grumbled, viciously slashing the staff into the ground before him when he took his next step.

"But do go on.", Canach continued. "I am sure you were going to corroborate, there."

"I was.", Sgileas said bitterly. "But then I thought that it would be nice to see you making a fool of yourself, so I decided against it."

"Of all the people to underestimate, you underestimate _me_. I feel insulted."

"Petty as that would be, I doubt it.", Sgileas said. "The thing to know about Derwen is that he's _never_ there."

At that Canach raised his eyebrow questioningly and mustered the Commander worriedly. "Is the heat getting to your head?"

"Don't-", Sgileas snarled and then continued with an exasperated sigh when he noticed Canach was grinning smugly. "Its an _Illusion._ That thing walking over there? That's not real."

"How do you know?", Canach gleaned.

"Unlike you, I am prone to magic.", Sgileas explained without bothering to keep the complacent note form his tone. The Commander _did_ like to point out his supremecy whenever he had a chance, scarce as they were lately.

"So, where is he?", Canach could not help but glance around, but he had to admit that if Sgileas had not warned him, if he had not said anything, he would be none the wiser.

"You're a smart sylvari.", Sgileas said without derision and Canach tried to ignore the soft, pulsing burn that spead through his abdomen at the unexpected compliment. "I am sure you will figure it out."

"Your faith in me is flattering, Commander.", Canach teased. "Is this a test? You should know that I _hate_ to be tested."

"You know that I know better than that.", Sgileas said, and the purple eyes seemed to cut right under Canach's skin.

It was Sgileas saying that he knew Canach better than to need to test him, that he trusted Canach to do this task without having to check it over himself. It was a great compliment coming from a sylvari such as Sgileas and before making this any more awkward and serious than it already seemed to become, Canach quipped,

"Mind if I think aloud?", Canach grinned.

"Pale Tree knows I can't stop you.", Sgileas sighed theatrically, but Canach knew better than to be offended by anything that Sgileas said. If anything the fact that Sgileas pushed away everyone and everything, that he seemed cold and apathetic and harsh was what made the Commander all the more intriguing - and fascinating to such a degree that Canach felt drawn in.

"It would be in Derwen's interest to know all that he can about both the party and our mission, especially when he can move freely without being seen or detected. Except by you, of course.", Canach added the last part when Sgileas threw him a look and then continued, "It is all the more likely he'll be around whom the group centers especially since that someone is Tivon due to his prior…engagement with him. So he will avoid being around you and be around Tivon instead."

"Yes.", Sgileas agreed and glared ahead. "That is where he _should_ be."

Canach only had to give Sgileas one glance to know that Derwen was somewhere near _them_ and the leaves of his armor bristled at the thought that they were being watched and overheard. In Sgileas state the Necromancer had little to no chance to fight off anyone, except perhaps with the shadows of his Shroud that moved of their own accord, but other than that Canach felt he had to protect him.

And he was sure that Sgileas would manage to somehow make him a head shorter despite his inhibited state if he ever said that out aloud.

"To annoy you, I assume.", Canach replied nonchalantly. There was only one reason for Derwen to lurk around _them_ instead, and most certainly not to make polite conversation.

" _You_ do seem to enjoy it.", Sgileas rolled his eyes.

"I enjoy many things, Commander.", Canach insinuated and Sgileas held his gaze for a few seconds before he turned his head away without showing a change in his features or speaking a word, ignoring Canach's words completely.

But Canach grinned anyhow, knowing very well that his words had _some sort_ of effect, even if the cold, aloof and quite _unapproachable_ Commander did not want to show it - or admit it.

"Speaking of attention…", Sgileas began, tone drifting, and Canach recognized the seriousness of Sgileas' tone and nodded grimly.

"I can feel the dragon's presence here, It's palpable, but diffuse. I find it…distracting. Disconcerting.", Canach murmured.

Sgileas nodded as he probed forward with the staff, letting out a huff at the exertion that it took to pull his body forward. "I feel it, too. Mordremoth seems focused on this area… indirectly, like it's staring at us from the corner of its eye."

"The deeper we go into this camp, the more it feels like a spider's web…and we're the flies." Was that truly what they were? Walking straight into the heart of the jungle without a chance to achieve what they had come to do? It was rather convenient that the prisoners they were pursing seemed to be in the clutches of the Elder Dragon - and that they to delve right in to rescue them. Such convenience, Canach had been hard-pressed to learn over the many years of his life, was never per chance. It was an integrate design, but to what purpose he could not say.

For all that Canach knew this could be a ploy and they wouldn't know any better until the trap snapped shut around them.

Even as he entertained the idea, he didn't mind being here when the trap shut around them.

His life had taken many strange and unexpected turns, but with Countess Anise holding his strings and sending him here of all places, Canach realized that despite the uncertainty they faced, despite the danger screaming in his face…

He'd not trade this for anything else. This was taking destiny into his own hands, a fight for his very own freedom of the shackles that Mordremoth intended to place upon his body and mind.

If he succeeded it would mean one less force that coerced and demanded his subservience and if he died he would do so as a free sylvari.

Either way, Canach would not shirk the confrontation with the Elder Dragon. There was nothing he had to lose.

Yet.

 

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The party had been quiet before, a silence that had settled over them due to the uncertainty and trepidation that was around their thoughts at all times increased only by the stifling and sweltering jungle that surrounded them, but now…

That silence was almost deafening. Normally, Tivon didn't mind. Not in his state, anyhow, but he was not sure if he had done the most sound thing by inviting Derwen along, even though it was logical.

If Derwen could lead them as he had said, then that certainly was a better chance than to scout the jungle and _hope_ for a trace or track of anyone. For Tivon to find a track to follow, he had have to find the trace first and so far they only had this one thing: This prison camp and the hope of finding one of Destinys Edge here, if Rytlock's 'feeling' was to be trusted.

They had wandered the jungle for hours now, steering straight through due to Derwen's guiding steps.

"Am I wrong?", Tivon asked Sgileas and the Necromancer glanced up from where his gaze had been glued to the forest floor. The tether between them was still strong, but Tivon felt not quite as drained any longer as he had before. There were only two reasons he could think of why that was. One, he had somehow grown stronger, or two, Sgileas required less of his supporting magic.

"Often.", Sgileas replied nonchalantly.

"I mean," Tivon said not minding Sgileas' humour, "Am I wrong to trust Derwen?"

"If you trust him, you are a fool.", Canach was the one to answer. The Secondborn was stationed at Sgileas' side at all times, a dark shadow trailing abrest, and Tivon was grateful someone was looking after Sgileas while he could not. "I was obviously not present when whatever it was that transpired between you happened, but I _know_ that he is up to no good."

Sgileas nodded grimly in agreement. "We must keep an eye on him. Tribune?" Rytlock turned around with a raised eyebrow, his claw lifted to brush a branch out of the way. "Will you keep an eye on him?"

"Will do.", Rytlock grumbled. "I am getting the feeling the sylvari are stacking up."

Canach rolled his eyes. "Thats what the Ascalonians said about the Charr prior to the Foefire."

Rytlock was about to snarl something back when everyone came to a sudden halt and Tivon saw that Derwen had turned around to look straight at him. For a moment the world and sounds seemed to fade out, an old memory slowly pressing through from a subconscious drowned and lost, of a sylvari bathing in waves where all the dilipidation had begun. He pushed it back, down, down, _down_ , and Derwen seemed to smile.

"Through here.", Derwen said and gestured toward the large vine wall in front of him. Tivon moved up the slope, his naked feet finding easy purchase on the various roots in the steep climb. He felt Derwen's eyes on him and tried not to mind them, but no matter how hard he tried it was impossible. He felt them caress over his skin like phantom hands, gliding up and down his arms, chest and legs and a shiver went over his skin, but he was unable to shake the feeling.

"Are there enemies waiting for us on the other side?", Tivon asked, mustering the wall of vines in an attempt to divert his thoughts.

Derwen shifted slightly, his eclipse-like eyes drifting up toward Tivon's. "Maybe.", Derwen eluded. "We have to take it down first."

Tivon used the chance to tear his eyes away and lifted his hand into the air and formed it into a fist. He could feel the vines and Mordremoth's magic thick and stiffling running through earth and dirt alike, strengthening the gate in front of them. Slowly he pulled his arm down, the vines resisting his pull and he pulled _harder_ , but however hard he tried, his magic was not enough. This part of Mordremoth's territory was more resilient and all the sylvari could hear Mordrmeoth's cruel chuckle at Tivon's failed attempt.

"Hmmm.", Derwen made beside him, and in all the time that Tivon had cast, Derwen had never taken his eyes off of him. If anything the look had intensified and Tivon felt uncomfortable, feeling himself crack under the pressure and the weight of the gaze.

_Fracturing, sowly._

There was a question hanging in the air that Derwen was about to ask, but Tivon was saved from hearing and having to answer it when Braham stepped in between them, brushing past his arm. The Norn had his face set sternly ahead, shoulders drawn in tightly and fingers clenched around his weapons tight enough to pale, but the Norn's very presence and the short brush of skin against skin settled the unease in Tivon's churning head.

"Is it another dead end?", Braham asked tenuously and Tivon heard Sgileas ask,

"Tribune, are you still feeling that feeling?"

"Affirmative. And it's even stronger here. They're close…just beyond those vine walls.", Rytlock murmured and stepped beside Tivon, mustering the large and thick construction of nature and corrupted magic.

"What are we waiting for? Tribune, put you new magic to work and clear us a path. Please!", Braham said, and Tivon had never heard him say _Please_ in such a tone.

He wanted to reach out. He wanted to reach out and touch Brahams upper arm in a gesture of comfort, but the second his hand twitched the mere _idea_ seemed ridiculous. His arm was lifted into the air, fingers twitching, but he stopped the motion before it could complete and let his arm drop in dismay.

_Cracking._

There was a rush and roar of air when Rytlock summmoned Glint's form, the wings flapping so powerfully that they burst through the gate of vines with a loud explosion and dirt and dust whirled up, settling like a veil over the area beyond.

With their weapons drawn they waited and Tivon heard Vail above their heads caw once, signalling that there were no enemies to be wary off and Tivon beckoned the others to follow. The veil settled only slowly and Tivon squinted his eyes to make out anything silhouetted in the grey and beige of the cloud and felt Vail's claws dig tightly into his shoulder when the Raven landed.

A few moments of anxious silence settled over them in which Tivon sidled through the veil until suddenly a voice broke through: "Hello? Is anyone there?"

The voice sounded familiar. Tivon slowly moved in closer and saw a prison made from vines in front of them, painted dark against the cloud of dust.

"A rescue party.", the voice said delighted, but she sounded weak and weary. "..then Wolf did hear me, in here…they're starving us…no food or water for days."

That…that voice. It was Eir. They had found her, they had found Braham's mother -

"Mother!", Braham called and charged forward, his hands reaching for the vines that kept the prison together, tearing them apart one string and fibre at a time. Vail jumped from Tivon's shoulder to assist Braham, large claws digging into the plants and tearing them away.

"That's because Mordremoth doesn't care if we're alive or dead when it plugs us into a Blighting Tree. Release us. Now!", another voice demanded sharply, sounding more energetic and furious than Eir.

"Faolain?", Tivon frowned when they had all finally reached the cell and his hand halted just inches from pulling the vines apart. "Why is Mordremoth locking up so many Nightmare Courtiers?"

Faolain nearly spat in his face. "You know nothing of the court. We seek freedom, and Mordremoth's yoke is even more onerous than the Pale Tree's."

"Forget her. Just get me out!", Eir said and Braham nodded.

"I will.", Braham promised, never once ceasing his activity. "Where are the others?"

"The Mordrem took Logan and Zojja and Trahearne deeper in the jungle and I don't know why.", Eir explained and her voice seemed to soften when she watched Braham.

"Hang on, Mother. We're about to bust you out of there.", Braham promised and Tivon and Rox helped Braham slowly pull the prison apart, but for some reason it was more resilient than the others, the vines harder and stronger. Faolain let her eyes wander of them with a distateful snarl before her eyes settled on Canach.

"Oh, It's the second-class secondborn. I thought you were in jail, little brother.", she sneered.

Canach didnt even lose a beat. "I negotiated my way out, Unlike you, I realized how pointless and destructive my chosen course was, so I changed it."

"Ah, but you're still a prisoner. And you will be until you stop trying to prove you're nobler than you actually are.", Faolain smirked evilly.

"You are right.", Sgileas said nonchalantly and made himself slightly taller. "Perhaps we should kill you instead. The noble thing to do would be to let you leave, right?"

"You can try.", she growled, "and you will find that-"

"Faolain.", Derwen said and her eyes snapped toward him. If her previous voice had revealed her anger, now she was furious. Her eyes glinted, her teeth were bared and her face contorted in wrath.

" _Traitor_.", she hissed and Derwen laughed - a laugh that went through Tivon's body and soul and made him shiver.

"Do not tell me you are surprised.", Derwen grinned. "I am sure you are familiar with betrayal."

Braham made a frustrated noise and grabbed a large vine that curled around almost the whole length of the prison and pulled it apart with a large swing of his arm. Tivon ducked out of the arm's path just in time and heard the _snap_ of the vine. The prison shuddered and Tivon felt something moving beneath his feet, something stirring and churning -

He pressed his hand down against the earth and realized that the prison was attachted to a large vine that rested beneath the earth. It stirred and quivered before it broke free of the earth that confined it, breaking open parts of the ground and then swinging toward the cliff.

From inside Faolain and Eir gave surprised cries and then the prison lifted into the air. Braham tried to reach out and lifted his hand into the air, but his fingers closed around nothing. The prison swayed for a moment, swung like a morning star and then tilted, crashing down on the other side of the ravine and breaking open like an egg with a loud, reverberating crunch. Eir and Faolain tumbled out into the open, coughing as they slowly rose from the tangles of their prison.

Tivon heard Mordremoth chuckle in his head. It was deep, low, _vibrating_.

Vail shot up into the air, crowing loudly in warning and Tivon did not need a translation to know what it meant. The Raven flew toward the other side, circling over Eir with hurried flaps of its wings and Eir frowned at the Raven before her eyes trailed toward the thicket behind her and she realized that the soft shift of leaves was _not_ due to a breeze.

"Eir, head to the overpass. We can cut it off there!", Rytlock called and Tivon was on his feet the next instant.

"Tivon!", Sgileas called and Tivon turned his head, barely catching the staff thrown his way from the air. Braham was brushing past, dashing over the bridge of vines with astounding velocity, jumping over everything uneven in his path. Tivon focussed his mind and focussed on the point where Eir and Faolain were on the other side, both scrambling to gain their ground.

Faolain was rising to her feet behind Eir, something clutched in her hand -

"Eir!", he heard someone call out, Vail above his head gave a cry in warning, but it all was too little too late.

Faolain stabbed the thorned weapon into Eir's abdomen, catching the hunter off-guard and Eir gasped and hunched over, blood covering her guise a deep red. She succumbed to her knees, hands planted on the ground in front of her as she fought for breath and Faolain rose to her feet. Eir tore the thorn free with a grunt of pain, pulled her arm back and threw the dagger at Faolains retreating back. The thorn plunged into Faolain's bark and she stumbled again with a cry of pain toward the ground, landing with a crash. With a pained howl she rose onto her arms and turned around to stare in horror at the creature as it sauntered from the thicket toward her.

It was a Vinetooth.

Faolain shook her head wildly and got onto her feet, but she barely made one step when the large, spiked tail impailed her, lifted her into the air and then launched her body somewhere into the thicket beyond, a cry like that of a banshee escaping her. The Vinetooth looked after Faolain's body for a moment before it turned.

They wouldn't make it, Tivon realized. They wouldn't. They-

"Eir, look out!", Braham cried and Eir looked up, her hands and arms trembling when she clutched the wound on her abdomen with both her palms. Her eyes seemed glazed yet certain and behind her rose the Vinetooth to form another strike, tail at the ready -

Eir was looking at Braham and she gave him one last, final curt nod before she gasped and sputtered when the tail pierced through her middle, protruding from her stomach and impaling her. She was lifted and she craned her neck, glanced up at the sky - and then her body went limp. With a discarding movement the Vinetooth launched her body toward the side where it smacked against the side of a rock, crunching on impact before falling face down and remaining unmoving.

The sound that tore from Brahams throat was something out of this world. It seemed to tear Tivon in two just _hearing_ it, the heavy plating of sobriety in his mind shattering and fracturing apart. It was pained, guttural, _primal_ , and Braham all but lunged into the Vinetooth mace-first with such force his body barelled into the Vinetooth's side with a loud crash and the tether sizzled furiously between them.

Tivon dashed toward Eir's side, his body formed into a wisp of golden light now that he was finally in range, but even when he finally reached her with his knees scrapping over the dried earth and coming to a halt inches before her body, his hands clasping her limp shoulders and turning her onto her back he realized by the glassy look of her eyes that she was gone.

He closed his eyes against the emotion rising in his throat, closed off his mind and body when he heard Braham cry out again, this time in wrath and fury and frustration and he heard the shattering of Mesmer illusions behind him and felt a cold whisp of Jory's blade.

Carefully he reached down into the depth, called upon the Astral Energy and fuelled his nature magic with its essence, but even as he reached into Eir's body he found that nothing was responding to his powers, that the body was all but decaying already in the absence of Eir's soul.

She could not have moved on that fast. She.. _couldn't,_ Tivon tried to reason and searched and searched and _searched_ , but the flicker of life, the thing that connected body and mind, that thing that was the soul…it was gone. Her body was nothing but a shell, empty like a husk.

She was gone.

Gone.

Eir… _dead_.

"Tiv.", a voice beside him said, low and supplicating and he opened his eyes and when he saw that Braham knelt beside him, trembling and _aching,_ Tivon nearly broke. "Tiv, is she-"

Tivon opened his mouth.

Closed it.

And looked away.

Braham clenched his hands into fists and slammed them into the ground. Once. Twice. Again and again and _again_ until they bled and Tivon could feel the heat of Brahams body as the wrath and frustration pervaded the air, could _feel_ how much this _tore_ at the Norn.

When Braham lifted his fists again Tivon caught them and Braham stilled instantly, lowering them slowly and gingerly to the ground. His shoulders hunched forward, his eyes were glazed and empty.

"Mother…", Braham whispered. "Mom…Spirits."

Braham's heart broke apart right then, Tivon could see it, feel it. It was palpable in the air, noticeable in the posture of Braham's body, the way he seemed to suddenly have no strength to keep himself upright as if this loss had literally dragged and pulled him to his knees. The tether between them transmitted the very same, transmitted and telegraphed Braham's pain in the inbound and weaving magic in manners Tivon could not explain.

"Braham.", Tivon brought out, but Braham did not look up. Guilt and anger and sadness flashed in Braham's eyes, all so quickly and mixed Tivon could not pinpoint where one began and the other ended. "I'm…so sorry." He squeezed Braham's hands that were still clenched into fists, held them even though he could feel that they were chaffed and bleeding. His Nature Magic eased some of the sting, some of the pain, but he'd never reach deep enough to take the melancholy and loss that Braham was experiencing.

"Me too, kid. At least she took Faolain with her. And Faolain died screaming like the coward she was.", Rytlock grumbled behind them and Tivon had almost forgotten the others were there, had all but shut them out completely.

"I'm sorry, Braham.", Taimi added, her voice low and soft, and even though she was hidden well in Scruffy's visor, Tivon could see her ears were hanging low.

"I need…time.", Braham brought out and Tivon saw that it took all of the Norn's strength to keep the tears at bay. "There are rituals to perform, And Garm… ", he took a deep breath and Tivon squeezed harder, the gilded light surrounding their hands pulsing softly, and Braham squeezed back weakly. "Spirits, I don't even know if he was with her during the crash. And her bow - if it's in that camp, I want it. My mom and I never…", he chocked and glared at the ground. "…we didn't have… Just let me say good-bye to her.", Braham murmured, and then, quietly, as if it were meant for Tivon's ears alone, he added, "Alone."

_Stay_ , Braham seemed to scream when the Norn's fingers tightened around Tivon's and he gently untangled their fingers.

_Stay_ , Braham's hunched body yelled when Tivon erected himself and stood on his feet.

_Stay,_ Brahams eyes sginalled when he did not look up at Tivon as he turned away.

"Just go.", Braham murmured. "I'll catch up. I swear to you, I'm not going to die out here. Not until I see Mordremoth fall."

Tivon did not know any words to say. All he could do was stand awkwardly and lamely, feeling only a portion of the loss that Braham must be feeling. He was confused, confused by that which Braham _said_ and by what the Norn's body _transmitted_. The messages were there, both equally powerful and clear, and all Tivon could bring himself to say as he was torn between moving and staying was, "Take whatever time you need."

He wanted to kneel down beside Braham again, to place a hand atop his shoulder and show him he was _there_ , that he did not have to go through this alone. He did not want to impose, he did not want to read something into Braham's stance because-

He took a deep breath. "Catch up as soon as you can.", was all Tivon could add, nearly chocking on the words and as he made a couple of steps it was Rox who stopped him, the luck charms chiming softly when she came to a halt in front of him.

"Tiv, are you sure?", she whispered, and Tivon wasn't. He really, _really_ wasn't. "You should stay. He needs you."

_He needs you._

_Breaking, definitely._

"I-", Tivon brought out and glanced over his shoulder toward where Braham knelt beside the body of his dead mother. It was all swirling in his head, coming and crashing over him, threatening to drown him under. It all had happened too fast, too sudden, too _much_ , and he could not handle the emotions that incessently rattled through him.

He _wanted_ to stay. He _wanted_ to be beside Braham and help him though this time of love and loss, a time of guilt and hatred and frustration and he _knew_ he could help him, that he could do _something_ -

But Braham had said- He had said that he wanted to be alone. That he wanted to say goodbye alone and who was Tivon to impose on something like that, who was he to interfere? What was his right to read what _he_ wanted into Braham's actions?

There was a hand on his shoulder, one that was not broad, not firm, not strong, and he looked startled at Derwen who was, for the very first time in hours, _not_ smiling. "Tivon.", he said, and Tivon couldn't tear his eyes away. It seemed that everything was spinning and turning, slowly pushing in on him and breaking apart and then, it all stilled, came to a halt, jolted to a stop.

Time, the place, everything.

For a moment Tivon felt thrown back years back, thrown back when he had looked up at Derwen for guidance and reassurance, and the hand on his shoulder squeezed slightly.

"We must move on.", Derwen said, eyes stern and serious and Tivon gave only one faint nod, incappable of anything else, and when he turned to look at Rox she…looked morose.

"Will you…?", Tivon asked hoarsely and Rox nodded.

"Go on ahead.", she murmured quietly. "I'll make sure we find you…after Braham makes his peace with Eir."

Tivon nodded, the hand on his shoulders giving another slight squeeze and then tugging him along. "Thanks, Rox."

Even as Derwen pulled him away, even as the others fell in step behind him solemnly, offering short bursts of consolation toward Braham who knelt on the ground without a word, eyes fixed on the dead body of his mother, Tivon knew when he looked over his shoulder that he had done the greatest mistake of his life.

   
  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eir is dead. Tivon's meditation broken. Braham mourning. Sgileas is still recovering and Derwen's fingers hover over Tivon, ready to cast their strings.  
> Welp. See you in the next one!


	55. Prized Possessions Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SPLITTING EVERYTHING  
> There's so much stuff to write and to do I can barely breathe. Ideas and dialogues and developments that need to be prepared and then executed and whew, yeah, I'M EXCITED PEOPLE  
> You, uh, can just go on and I'll ramble on quietly, yeah? *Pushes you forward*

Rox watched Tivon go. It was all that she was capable of doing, even if it was her strongest desire to lift her bow and riddle the damned Mesmer with arrows.

She blinked and turned her head toward where Braham knelt on the ground and wondered, screamed silently in supplication, _"Won't you say something? Won't you stop him? Why are you letting him go like this? Why are you pushing him away?"_

Yet no words came from her mouth, her jaw clenched just as tightly as her claws, and the tip of her fangs seemed to itch as she shook her head in dismay.

Idiots, the lot of them.

When even Sgileas and Canach had left (Both leaving with no word said, only a brief nod in their direction that most likely meant some sort of recognition that consolation was required) and the small place was quiet, Rox was uncertain where to be, where to go. When she looked at Braham she saw how broken down he was, that the frustration and impatience he had carried now only reflected in an empty soul.

"Let's check the camp." Rox offered. "I saw something resembling a cache there."

Braham didn't respond.

"Is...there anything I can do?" She asked carefully, the warrior in her that was honed by years of military training under the Charr's stringent military rule only all too familiar with loss of family and friends. She herself knew far too well what that pain was like.

But Braham? He didn't move.

She came closer reticently, standing a little awkwardly and her claw playing with a chime that hung from her neck. No luck charms could bring a dead person back she had found, but it was better to have one than to be without. There was no point in challenging fate, was there?

"I know what this is like." Rox began slowly, trying not to let her voice soften into a placid tone. She knew Braham would hate to hear it, as would she if their roles were reversed. "I…lost someone close to me."

At that Braham finally twitched. Just a little. His head tilted toward her, pale blue eyes that gazed emptily up and meeting her own. She had seen many features upon Braham's face: anger, frustration, fury, eagerness for battle, consternation, and above all, worry.

To see his eyes so empty...

"My mate was in my Warband. He died during the mining accident."

She'd never spoken of her past, only ever alluded to what had happened. It felt a secret too deep, too raw, too sacred to tap into again. She was too afraid the pain would come back to overwhelm her and found the hallow emptiness responding inside her, reminding her of what kind of gaping hole it had punched into her to realize she had lost not only everything, but everyone as well. It had not only left her lonely and solitary, but it had made her Gladium, a shameful thing among Charr. Braham and Tivon had helped her through that hellhole that had been her life and now all that she could do was try and return the favour. To be there as a friend. To be at Braham’s side when he so obviously needed someone.

"So…I know what you feel."

Braham dipped his heads and Rox understood that the Norn would not speak. Not because he did not want to, no. He felt that any words would breathe reality into this living nightmare, that any sound would breathe life into this cruel reality. She knew that feeling all too well.

Silence was the indemnity, the one thing that could be done to discontinue participating in reality and admitting its veracity.

When faced with a situation like this one wished that through inaction and silence the seconds would drag on to still into an endless eternity, in the hope of trapping one in nothingness. Rox however knew that however long one waited, the world continued on. Life would rattle and shake at you until you can no longer stay abstinent and birth you into your worst fear and nightmare.

Only this was no nightmare, and this was no friction of a second.

This was reality, a reality in which many, many more lives were at stake, but Rox would never say that straight out into Braham's face. That would be completely insensitive and inane, and Braham's grief would transform into fury instead.

Thankfully, Braham spoke. "I want her bow. It is…"

"It's a piece," Rox murmured, getting it. "It's a piece of her, her legeacy."

Braham nodded, jaw set tight.

Rox understood. All that she had from her mate was a luck charm, but that kept the memory closer to her, allowing her to delve into remembrance and to let the memory heal. Braham had loathed his mother for such a long time and finally got to meet her, got on speaking terms with her only to lose her so shortly after…

She closed her eyes against the swell of emotion, able to vent it through a deep breath that she took.

 _Rusted breeches_ , Tivon should be here. It was true she knew Braham's grief and she would not have gone with them even if they had begged her (She was Braham's friend first and foremost and no duty would change that), but Tivon was…

Well.

Tivon had a place that she could never take, even if she'd wondered, even if she'd thought maybe, maybe, maybe, but there was a barrier there that was not merely that of their race. She and Braham…they understood each other on a level that transcended normal communication, granted, and during their travels with Tivon all those months back she had felt that she and Braham had been Tivon's parents rather than his companions and friends.

He'd always snuck out and away, sleeping who-knows-where and sometimes disappearing without a word. It was like keeping a stray cat and they'd laughed heartily at Tivon's skittish nature, but Braham's fondness had always been laced with worry and concern, edging toward the protective more than the vigilant prospect of friendship.

And from there…Rox had seen it transform.

And…by her tail, those two were more daft than her screwdriver.

The essence was…

_"Tivon should be here, with him, and I would be the party to watch over them as Tivon consoles him because I can't."_

Perhaps that admission should have hurt, but Rox was more strict with herself than with anyone else. She would not fall into self-pity when her friend needed her and she would do what she could to ease Braham's course into reality.

"Come on big guy." She encouraged with a weak smile that only reached her eyes. "Frostbite will watch and guard her body. We'll search the camp. Who knows? Maybe we're lucky and some Mordrem patrol comes along."

It was Braham's way to let off steam and sure enough, Braham slowly rose to his feet, knees making a clipping noise as he did. "Let's." Braham agreed and she took the lead, not daring to throw Braham any side- or questioning glances. She knew such things would only aggravate and annoy the norn and that was the least she wanted to do.

Braham walked with the weight of his loss dragging down his shoulders, his usual bright blue eyes darkened by the sharp, indrawn eyebrows and the fact that his head was slightly inclined, shadow forming over his cheekbones. They were unfortunate in a sense that no Mordrem crossed their path and even though Rox could not hear Mordremoth's voice as the sylvari in their party could, she could feel something watching her, breathing down her neck, and the Elder Dragon seemed to regard them with mirth at their current misery.

"There." she murmured and pointed toward the far end of the prison camp where a stash of weapons rested with caches and piles of all sorts of weapons. Bows, staffs, swords, long swords, daggers, greatswords…

Braham searched through the piles as he lived; impatiently and temperamental, and pieces of unusable weapons were sent flying with a swings of his arms, scattering around them and landing in nearby bushes and thicket to disappear from sight. It was only after a few seconds that he halted, muscles tense and tight before he gingerly gripped something from the cache and lifted Eir's bow from the pile, holding it was if it were made from thin, fragile glass that would splinter at even the slightest touch.

The Norn stared at if for a moment, lost in thoughts too far away for Rox to even attempt to guess before Braham rose to his feet. "It's all I have." Braham murmured. "We can't leave her here, like this."

Rox nodded in agreement. There were various animals, not to mention the Mordrem around them that would take advantage of the dead body. "We must burn her body." Rox said as softly as she could and she half expected for Braham to lash out, but he didn't. Instead he just stared at the bow in contemplation.

"Yeah." Braham agreed quietly. When they returned to Eir's body Braham seemed solemn and was quiet as he collected all the necessities to make a small pire, dry branches and splintered wood which he cracked from nearby trees all strewn out over the parched ground and ever so slowly it began to take shape. Rox and Frostbite helped, carrying what they could and offering it to Braham who took it quietly and piled it up before he stood in front of his work and took a deep breath - as if to brace himself for what was to come.

He then turned and lifted Eir's body from the ground and placed the limp form gently atop the wood. Some of the branches snapped under their combined weight, but Braham didn't even seem to notice and knelt beside her body, staring down at her face for a few more seconds before he lifted his hand and placed his hand atop her eyes, sliding her eyelids shut. He rested his hand for a moment, murmuring something under his breath that Rox could not hear - nor was she certain she was even supposed to. This was a family matter, this was about Braham and his mother, this was about saying goodbye.

All that she could do was be here in case Braham needed her, not more, nor any less.

Braham took Eir's hands and folded them atop her stomach and then held out his hand in Rox's direction. She blinked at the calloused, broad hand for a few seconds and wondered what Braham wanted when the Norn spoke,

"Knife."

"Braham…" Rox began, but the glance he threw her…it allowed no room for argument. She gulped and gripped the hilt of the dagger resting at the small of her back and reached it out toward him, holding it out hilt-first. He took it without a word and for a moment Rox wondered if she'd done the right thing when Braham lifted the knife into the air, gripped his hair with the other hand in in one swift, jagged motion cut the long red ponytail from his scalp.

Rox opened her mouth to protest but closed it, realizing that she knew nothing of Norn rituals. Perhaps this was part of it. Giving the deceased something as a parting gift, or something to remember the loved ones by. Or perhaps it was a sign for the loved ones that they were giving up something, that they were losing something in their life when the person died.

Braham laid the strands of hair into Eirs palms and closed her pale fingers around them, gripping them tightly to draw out the white of his knuckles. He was still for a moment until he took another deep breath and then stood, lifting himself reluctantly.

"Torch." Was all he said and Rox lifted one of hers and with a few clicks of the flint the spark ignited the torch and lit it up. Braham took it when she held it out and held it for an agonizing long second, his features caressed by the orange of the flame, leaving a haunted look in his eyes as the shadows danced over his face.

When Braham threw the torch onto the pile Rox just watched, only one thought in her head.

 _Tivon should be here_ , it repeated in her head. She could see it in her mind's eye how it was supposed to be, that Tivon was supposed to be here, walking up toward Braham and taking his hand, giving it a comforting and reassuring squeeze, and Braham would look down at him with eyes full of sorrow, but also gratefully and he'd squeeze back.

But instead she was here and when she stepped forward and placed her hand atop Braham's upper arm he did not twitch, he did not turn his head to look at her. His eyes were fixed on the fire in front of him as the flames grew and devoured the wood, casting a dancing flickering light over his features, and it was all Rox could do not to break into tears.

  


* * *

 

"Tivon.", a voice called from somewhere in the back and Tivon glanced over his shoulder. "We must rest."

It was Jory who had spoken. After what had happened with Eir Tivon hadn't stopped. Once his legs had begun to move he'd walked and walked and walked over sticks and stones, climbed up hills and over roots, only a single thought incessantly torturing his mind.

 _I should have stayed,_ he thought bitterly. _I should have turned around, I should have -_

"Tivon.", Jory tried again and this time Tivon realized that she had actually made a quick dash to catch up with him, slightly out of breath, her fingers curling around his wrist.

Her touch brought him to a sudden halt and he looked down at her, met her black eyes with his own uncertain ones. "Ah.", he made, only now remembering what it was that she had said. "Yeah. Of Course."

Her grip loosened and her eyes frowned. "Are you OK?"

_Braham is… He needs me. What am I doing here? I should be with him._

"Fine." Tivon lied and turned away and saw Kas' pained expression only from the corner of his eyes.

"Tiv." Kas murmured and even though Jory stepped away, she didn't back down. "He'll be fine."

 _"I have them."_ Mordremoth whispered, and Tivon stared blankly ahead when the voice echoed through his mind. _"This world, all of you, are mine."_

"Tivon."

_"You are mine."_

"Tivon." The voice said again and Tivon snapped from his trapped thoughts into reality once again. The voice was Derwen's and he blinked up at Derwen in confusion.

"Leave him alone." Kas hissed like a snake, her usual kind eyes drawn into a frown and she stepped up beside him almost protectively, her fingers curled tightly around her staff.

Derwen ignored her. "Mordremoth plays with our thoughts and our emotions.", the Mesmer said and stepped closer and now that he wasn't smiling cruelly, now that Tivon felt uncertain and afraid he felt catapulted back to that time back then, to a time where he would have easily taken the comfort of Derwen's voice and arms. "You must resist."

_"You are mine."_

"Camp. Yeah.", Tivon said awkwardly, suddenly at a loss for words and shook his head, tried to shake the voice in his head away. He could not deal with this, with the fact that he had abandoned Braham in his hour of need, that Derwen was here, that Mordremoth was in his head. He needed to be alone, he needed… "I'm scouting ahead.", he brought out and didn't heed any of their protests.

Not Kas' "Tiv, don't-"

Not Sgileas' "Don't go too far."

Vail and Kota followed close on his heel into the thicket as his friends stared after him in dismay and worry.

  


* * *

 

"He'll be fine." Jory soothed Kas and Derwen stared after where Tivon had disappeared only moments ago.

 _Oh_ wasn't it funny how the whole group was tangled up with one another? Derwen knew the signs of appeal, of attraction, of curious want and he could see them displayed so plainly and clearly here among them.

Those were his tools after all. It was what he did - he charmed people, appealed them, appeased them… Only to seduce them to do his bidding on a moment's notice. It was only natural that he saw the tools more clearly than they most likely ever could.

He saw it in Canachs contemplative stare, his protective posture, the glances he threw the Necromancer when he thought Sgileas was not looking. Did the Secondborn even know that the Commander was already taken? Derwen certainly would find it funny if he didn't.

And then the Norn. The Norn's affiliation with Tivon didn't fill him with mirth as Canach's not-so-secret interests were. No, not at all. Braham was a Norn and he was _staring_ at Tivon, a sylvari. How that had come to pass Derwen could not say, but it made his skin bristle. Norn and sylvari - that was unheard of, even to _him._

That in itself, the matter of their relationship or the fact that they had somehow developed an attraction despite their races being quite so different as flame and water, was not a matter of great concern. It was easy to see the appeal - Derwen saw it after all. _Not_ in the Norn, no. He was just muscular, broad and temperamental, not to mention that the brains atrophied under all the brawn.

No, he spoke of _Tivon._

Because despite what Derwen had done, despite the past they had shared and the jagged cut Derwen had left, it was not as if Derwen had felt nothing. If he had he'd never have tried to seduce Tivon. Perhaps he would have done so out of curiosity at first, but he would not have indulged and taken it quite as far as he had. The mere fact that Tivon had loved him quite so strongly and had trusted him so blindly had surprised and intrigued Derwen - just as much as Tivon's very nature.

Tivon was good-hearted, innocent, and most of all, he was full of noble intentions and notions of justice.

If all that could be turned to nightmare…innocence turned into sin, merciless, cold, exacting and filled with notions of chaos instead… Well. That had been the point. To turn Tivon to Nightmare, to see the fruition of the seed Derwen had planted: To see trust fall to betrayal, hope into bitterness and from there ripen into apathy and hatred. Against all odds Tivon had not only resisted but somehow remained the way he had been. Trusting. Naive. Pure.

It was ridiculous that Tivon was to be wasted on someone like the Norn, it was utterly unthinkable that Tivon should feel or fall for anyone else. No, Derwen could not allow this to proceed. There was no way Derwen would let the Norn taint all that he had accomplished, there was no way he would let anyone else have Tivon.

Tivon was _his_. And Derwen would tear the very moon from the sky to make it so once again.

  


* * *

 

"I know." Tivon groaned as he pulled himself up on the branch in answer to Vail’s accusing crow. "I know. I just…didn't know what to do."

 _Stay,_ Vail cowed in annoyance. Kota chirped in agreement from below.

Tivon sighed when he finally seated himself on the branch and let his legs dangle beneath him. When he said he did not know what it was, he was lying to himself and both Vail and Kota knew it. And he knew it too.

The uncertainty of what to do had gnawed its way up into his chest and nestled there like a parasite until nothing but the call of his Wyld Hunt had been able to justify moving on. It was the call of the egg that dragged him out here, yet each step seemed less certain and with each second Tivon found he wanted nothing more than to turn around, the hours he had spent walking this path be damned, and help Braham with his grief.

How many times had Braham helped him? Tivon could not even count them, there were so many. It was unfair. Tivon was being unfair and a terrible, terrible friend. He was leaving Braham to deal with such emotional turmoil all on his own.

Braham's cry of agony and loss reverberated like an echo in his mind, and even the last traces of his meditation were no more. The hardened shell was gone, fractured and cracked under the pressure and incessant guilt wrecking him and tearing him apart.

Braham had been so angry and frustrated when he had found out Tivon had meditated. There had been hurt there, frustration, anger, loss. And if he did it again…

Tivon clenched his hands and fisted the leaves covering his thigh in between his fingers, eyes staring glazed out into the approaching nightfall. The jungle was quiet as always, barely even the sound of wind brushing over branches and leaves. What was he to do? He didn't want to meditate. He didn't want to push all of that away once again simply to feel…what, safer?

"Pondering?" A voice asked below and Tivon startled and gave a yelp of surprise, his arms flailing around him and he caught himself just in time before tumbling backward and down to meet the ground. Carefully he adjusted his position and glanced down, but he could never not recognize him.

"Derwen." Tivon breathed out and couldn't help but feel trapped when the Mesmer smiled up at him like a cat about to devour a mouse.

  


* * *

 

Sgileas leaned against the tree and let himself slowly glide toward the ground, hissing at the pain that shot up from his back. It was getting better now, even without Tivon's tether attached, but it would take a few more days until he was finally recuperated. It was tedious to be patient with himself, especially when he couldn't handle patience at all.

Canach was adjusting the fire-food he had collected and Sgileas watched him absentmindedly before his gaze drifted over the camp. Taimi sat in her golem looking somewhat forlorn without Braham, Rox and Tivon, while Kas tried to integrate her into the duo made up by her and Jory by using idle conversation and chatter.

Derwen sat alone on a patch of moss and he looked lost in thought, as if he wasn't really there.

Sgileas watched for a moment longer before he realized why Derwen looked like that and jolted to his feet, bristling at the fact that he had not noticed sooner. He staggered to where Tivon had left, the Druid's staff clutched in his hand before he heard Canach behind him protest,

"Where are you going?"

Sgileas turned to look over his shoulder and only glanced over Kas and Jory as he did. There was no need to alarm them as well, or when they were already quite so protective. If they found out Derwen was not here then they would surely panic and set out to find Tivon - and that would only mean chaos.

"Come with me." Sgileas ordered sharply, leaving no room for argument and Canach hid his surprise as he stood, but not well enough. Once they entered the thicket Canach chuckled,

"Are you aware what they are going to think?” The secondborn asked.

"I believe I have cared very little so far." Sgileas deadpanned. "Derwen must be with Tivon."

"You coming to the sprout's rescue?" Canach teased. "More importantly, why must I tag along?"

Sgileas rolled his eyes. "A good try, but no. I don't actually need your help. But you'd have chased after me anyhow."

"Aren't you full of yourself." Canach murmured with a sigh.

"No need to get personal," Sgileas replied. "We both know I'm right."

"Touche, Commander. So what is it that you plan to do exactly?"

It surprised Sgileas only briefly that Canach did not even bother denying it. It was something to remember and get angry at, some other time. "To keep Tivon from making another foolish mistake." Sgileas grumbled and shoved the branch in front of him aside with a movement of his arm, limping over the ground. "And to kill Derwen if necessary."

"Well, that seems like a drastic measure. Not that I will miss his company."

"I will kill him either way once this is over." Sgileas professed sharply. "Derwen's meddling is too dangerous and he is too powerful to be left unchecked."

There was a sharp, loud and accusing caw in front of them that could only be Tivon’s Raven and despite Sgileas' body protesting he dashed forward.

  


* * *

 

"Me," Derwen said with his arms extending to the sides and a wide, flashing smile as if it was an invitation and presentation at once. "It is dangerous to be alone. Mordremoth can take advantage at any moment."

Tivon regarded Derwen carefully and leaned forward and jumped toward the ground, dusting off the leaves of his armor with his head inclined so he did not have to meet Derwen’s eyes. "I don't need your help." Tivon replied curtly and Vail above him cawed in agreement while Kota skittered closer to Tivon's legs, large enough to reach up to Tivon's knees, dark eyes squinted up at the Mesmer in warning.

"Perhaps not," Derwen shrugged. "But it would be foolish anyhow to wander alone. You should know better than that."

Tivon did not want to believe that Derwen cared, much less that the Mesmer worried. It sparked feelings in him that had lain dormant and overshadowed, forgotten and dusty only to resurface in pulses of hope that were unjustified. "I am not alone." Tivon said and gestured toward Vail and Kota.

"There were once three.", Derwen remembered with a smile.

"Were," Tivon echoed Derwen’s word. "You have seen to that personally."

"And where there once was affection," Derwen continued as if Tivon had not spoken and stepped closer toward him, eliciting a hiss from Kota but not minding the Karka at all. "it has shifted, has it not?"

Tivon felt the tangle of his emotions entwining into a cord and tightening his throat. "That is none of your business."

"True," Derwen responded nonchalantly. "Whom you care for is none of my business. It is however still unwise for you to be here, companions or no."

Tivon squinted his eyes and felt only a little comfort when Vail dug into his shoulder. "Why do you care?" Tivon bit out harshly, not able to contain the emotion from his voice.

Derwen rolled his eyes. "I have told you many times,” imparted the Mesmer. "I do what pleases me, and it pleases me to keep you alive. Preferably not in the clutches of an Elder Dragon that aims to possess us." When Derwen took a step toward him Vail let out a crow in warning, wings opened wide and flapping as if the Raven intended to take flight and assault Derwen, but the Mesmer halted after taking barely a step and not due to the Raven’s actions, his white black eyes resting on Tivon. "Come on," Derwen implored, more softly this time and raised his hand, palm facing upward in a gesture for Tivon to take it. "Let us go back to camp."

Tivon stared at the hand in confusion, the loud protesting crow of Vail sharp in his ear, but before he could decide two figures burst from the thicket and Derwen turned to look over his shoulder and gave a long, weary sigh. "How did Scarlet put it?", the Mesmer asked innocently as the two figures brushed through the thicket into the open. "Ah, yes. 'Party, meet pooper'."

"I will say this only the once," Sgileas snarled and for the first time he stood tall without the support of the Druid’s staff and looked restored to his former puissant glory as his purple eyes glowered, "Return to the camp."

Derwen made a dismissing gesture and gave a graceful wave with his arm. "Already on my way, Commander." Derwen turned away, only glancing one last time over his shoulder. "Tivon." With that the Mesmer departed, humming a cheery tune.

Tivon only stared after Derwen with his throat tight. Vail pecked his cheek gently and nuzzled his feathered head against his own, but it was little comfort for the confusion churning in Tivon's mind. "Thanks." he murmured and did not specify for whom it was - but it was to all of them.

"This had better be a lesson," Canach grumped and the hand that had hovered over the hilt of his blade slowly sank down beside him. "The Commander tires of running after stray cabbages."

"Don't talk for me." Sgileas hissed, but Canach did not seem intimidated.

"I'm sorry," Tivon murmured an apology. "I know it was foolish but…I needed a moment alone."

"He will use that against you," Sgileas said sharply and directly. "Don't be ignorant. Even you must know that Derwen will play games that you can not win."

_"it has shifted, has it not?"_

_"That is none of your business."_

_"True. I do what pleases me, and it pleases me to keep you alive. Preferably not in the clutches of an Elder Dragon that aims to possess us."_

Did…Did Derwen care? Was that the essence of this? The Mesmer had come here to…keep him from danger?

To protect him?

Tivon felt a rush of warmth spread into his fingers and his throat was dry. That was just Derwen's scheme, was it not? It wasn't real, like everything. Everything Derwen did was not real.

But even knowing that Tivon could not help but find that flicker of hope inside him that ignited despite the protests of his rational mind.

The silence seemed to speak in abundance. "What did he say?" Sgileas asked sharply and Tivon averted his eyes and stared at the ground, not meeting Sgileas' eyes.

"Nothing of consequence." Tivon claimed and his fingers tangled around the pendant that hung around his neck.

He was an idiot.

_A complete._

_Utter._

_Idiot._

  


* * *

 

Sgileas did not believe him, not one bit, but Tivon would only have one reason to not speak of it, and that was if the matter that Derwen had addressed was of a personal and intimate nature.

No, Sgileas was most certainly not going to delve deeper into _that_.

So instead he had let it slide and all but dragged Tivon back to camp (Without actual dragging involved because Tivon came willingly) and issued for Canach and Tivon to spar - not only because Tivon needed the practice but to keep the Druid's mind away despite his source of distraction sitting right there by the fire.

And whenever Sgileas glanced over toward where Derwen sat, the Mesmer's dark-light eyes were fixed on Tivon as if he intended to devour him with his gaze alone. There was something primal and ardent in that gaze, a possessive kind of hunger that even made Sgileas uneasy. What was the source of Derwen's obsession for the Druid? Was it infatuation? Possession? Absorption?

Sgileas shouldn't care. It was not any of his business, but he noticed that Tivon was distracted. The Druid refused to look at Derwen, but despite his best efforts he was even less a match for Canach than on a normal day and when Canach dislodged the staff from Tivon's hands and had it flying through the air where it smacked and clattered against the ground Tivon stumbled onto his back, panting heavily.

"Sorry." The Druid murmured and Canach reached out his hand and Tivon took it, the secondborn pulling him easily to his feet.

"Take a breath." Canach instructed and Sgileas knew that the secondborn knew that Tivon's mind was not focussed at all.

Tivon gulped, nodded and averted his eyes toward the ground, but despite his efforts, it showed that his mind was elsewhere. There was no trace left of Tivon's meditative state, no sobriety and apathy at all. If anything he seemed reverted back to the time that Sgileas had first met him, all those months back, into a state of self-consciousness and timidity.

How? and why? If he was supposed to be Soundless, how had that state of mind shattered apart so quickly? Was the state only achieved by continual repetition of the meditation? Then why had Tivon not done so again?

"That's enough." Sgileas ordered brusquely and Canach cast him a questioning glance but Sgileas was in no mood for any kind of argument, especially not the impertinent kind that he and Canach had on occasion. Canach sheathed his sword and Tivon brushed past the Secondborn without a word, seating himself in a quiet isolated corner. Vail flew from the branches ahead and landed on the ground in front of him, hopping on his legs a few times before coming to a halt, and Tivon's hand brushed over the Raven's feather dress absent-mindedly.

The Druid cast one side-glance toward where Derwen sat and averted his eyes immediately, shifting uncomfortably.

Kas noticed it and squinted her eyes at Derwen and stood, her dress flushing over her legs as she made her way toward where Tivon sat. He looked up at her with a questioning glance and she smiled at him warmly and encouragingly.

“You are getting good with the staff.” She noticed. “I’ve been copying a few tricks.”

Tivon smiles at that and inclined his head shyly. “It is hardly my technique,” Tivon admitted. “Sgileas devised it.”

“Yes, but you’re adapting. With those new powers coming into play, I’m sure even the Commander will have to watch his back. Plus, you saved him.”

Jory had quietly approached and seated herself beside her girlfriend without so much as a rustle. Sgileas watched as the two woman crowded over Tivon, and even as Tivon answered, Taimi was approaching too.

“Everyone needs a good medic.” Jory insisted.

Tivon shrugged at that. “It didn’t save Eir.”

Kas’ hand was on Tivon’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You can’t bring back the dead.”, she soothed. “You tried, but we were too late. Mordremoth-”

Tivon shook his head and clenched his fists. “I-” He began and gulped, “Even if I could not save her, I should have stayed with Braham.”

“Yeah.” Taimi chirped in and Kas gave her a reprimanding stare which she pointedly ignored. “But Rox is with him now. They’ll be fine.”

When Tivon didn’t answer, Kas leaned forward to bring him to look at her. “He’s going to be fine.” Kas assured him.

“He’s a big boy,” Jory smiled and at that, Tivon finally looked up. “We’ve all lost people to Mordremoth. I imagine he’ll want in on getting payback.”

“Or,” a voice sang form across the fire, “He’ll resent you for abandoning him.”

"Stop it." Kas hissed at Derwen and the sylvari tilted his head with a smile.

"What, exactly?"

"Haven't you done enough?" Kas snapped and stood, ignoring the hand Jory had extended to reach out for her.

Derwen did not even bother to stand. "I doubt your have the capacity to understand anything that I have done.", Derwen replied coolly and even though his eyes were at a lower level than Kas', he managed to look down on her still.

"Oh, I understand perfectly fine.", she said sharply and stepped forward, her dress reflecting in the firelight. "You thought it must be fun to play with someone's feelings."

"Don't be petty.", Derwen smirked. "I have told you that you know nothing of me."

"I know you are Nightmare Court, that you call yourself the Count of Thorns," she nearly spat out the words, "and that you forced Tivon to become Soundless."

Tivon twitched at the mention of his name and Derwen cast him a glance that lingered. "Ah," Derwen made and straightened. "So that's what that was."

"Kas." Jory said. "Honey."

"No!" she protested and her eyes glittered with anger. "All of you seem to accept that he's with us even though he's a monster. We shouldn't even take him along."

"You would let emotion inhibit you from attaining something of much higher value than…another emotion?" Derwen chuckled. "If it is revenge you seek, I assure you that I will not grant it."

"When this is over you had better find a deep, dark cave to hide in," Kas glared, "because we will not spare you a second time."

“And I,” Derwen said, his usual sultry and charming voice taking the tone of sharpened glass, “will not lie to him as all of you willingly do.”

Kas snorted at that and threw her head back to let out a high-pitched laughter. “Oh? As if you’ve never lied to anyone.”

“I’ve never lied to Tivon.” Derwen replied, eyes quinting. “Quite the contrary, in fact.”

At that Kas paused and stared down at Tivon who was suddenly the center of all attention again, shrinking away under the questioning glances.

The Druid averted his eyes and emotions flashed in his eyes, hurt, frustration, fear, before he finally spoke, “It’s true.” Tivon admitted quietly.

“He still played with you.” Kas interjected, clearly not giving up any ground, not anytime soon.

"Kas," came Tivon's voice, and he sounded battered and tired. "Please."

The female seemed to fight her anger for a moment before she sat down beside Jory once again and an uncomfortable silence settled over the camp.

Sgileas groaned inwardly and leaned back against the bark of the tree and closed his eyes.

_What a mess._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.  
> Rox is a mess, Braham's a mess, Tivon's a mess, and Derwen's laughing over them all, wanting Tivon back. And he's got a plan, too. (Yup, he does. He always does.)  
> That should be the chapter description I guess, hah.


	56. Prized Possessions Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy, this chapter is so long. Goodness me! I hope you can read it all in one go without dying of thirst first.  
> Either way, Tivon finds out a lot more stuff about himself, the story progresses, things get complicated, the usual. Enjoy!

The next morning came faster than Sgileas' sense of time predicted and once again he had not slept. Well, barely. There had been the occasional short period where he'd fallen into a nap that lasted mere seconds, his head lolling forward onto his chest before the motion itself rattled him awake. He did not trust himself to close his eyes, not with Derwen nearby, and not with the knowledge that dreams would surely plague him.

Despite his lack of rest his body recovered, slowly accostomizing to the strain that Sgileas demanded from his body. It was still going slower than expected -  _ way slower _ , but Sgileas relished that his deep, chasmic,  _ unspoken _ fear that he might never recover was entirely fictitious.

He was well enough to even engage in a fight and use his abilities, even though at range with Tivon’s staff acting as a temporary medium, and when the essence flew to him eagerly and he wrapped his fingers around it he felt the pulse of its power and magic reverberating in his Death Shroud, feeding it with savoury energy. Tivon's healing magic came as a respite as well, but the Druid looked just as he had the night before - uncertain and worried, and whatever his state of mind exactly was, it reflected not only in his posture, but his lacking abilities as well.

The reason for Tivon’s anxious state was obvious, the solution was not. 

Derwen lead them through the jungle without fault, Sgileas had to give the Mesmer that. Not only were the paths mostly clear of any enemies, but the Mesmer also managed to keep up a punishing pace that forced them all to hurry - and Sgileas could surely find not fault in  _ that _ .

It was however also Derwen who would glance over his shoulder toward the Druid and under the attention Tivon would pretend not to notice - even if all of them did. The silence between them all dragged on, etching into Sgileas skin and festering like a parasite, enough to make him feel frustrated.

Derwen was  _ playing  _ with Tivon. The Mesmer knew the effect he had on the Druid and was exploiting it expertly. 

Why? 

_ Why?  _

Why was Derwen so infatuated with the Druid? True, Tivon was unlike any other sylvari Sgileas had met (inane, curious, naive, but also strong-willed and diligent with a keen, strong sense of justice), but that was no reason to utilize this to antagonize everyone else. Was that what Derwen was after? 

It mattered very little. The pinnacle of all these troubles were that Tivon  _ let  _ Derwen affect him so. If the Druid was more resistant and did not show plainly that whatever Derwen did worked perhaps the situation would feel not quite as tense. 

“Tivon.” Sgileas said and the Druid blinked up at him questioningly, “The tether.”

Tivon’s eyes turned to where a small, electric silver lining wove between them, but it was weak enough to be barely visible and the strands of it to be short and thin. 

“Oh,” Tivon made and there was a crackle, the tether coming back to life forcefully. The magic almost slammed into Sgileas and he didn’t make any mention of it, neither by expression nor word. “Sorry.”

The tether had not been the reason Sgileas had called out Tivon’s name. Yes, it had weakened with Tivon’s mind wandering unfocused, but it was Tivon walking abreast that he had aimed for. 

“He is doing it on purpose.” Sgileas averred and Tivon’s eyes lowered toward the ground sheepishly, thankfully not pretending that he did not know what Sgileas meant. 

“I know.” Tivon murmured quietly. 

“Why are you letting him?”

At that Tivon seemed surprised. “I’m not-” The Druid began, but Sgileas only tilted his head and raised his eyebrow in a gesture of  _ Even you are not  _ that  _ naive,  _ and Tivon sighed. “I don’t know what to do.” Tivon then admitted.

“Think of your mission.” Sgileas replied. “Think of why you are here.”

“To look for Trahearne and to kill Mordremoth.” Tivon answered as if it had been a test and Sgileas eyes hardened. 

“No,” Sgileas interjected, “That is why I am here.”

Tivon paused for a moment, contemplating Sgileas words. “The egg.” Tivon finally said and it sounded like an admission. The Druid glances at Jory and Kas. “I can’t abandon them.”

“They do not matter.” Sgileas pointed out. “My destination is clear, so is yours.” 

“They are my friends.” Tivon argued. “How can you say they don’t matter? They have fought beside us all this time.”

“Their opinions do not matter.” Sgileas elaborated. “Their fight is one of survival. They have no choice. And once you begin to pursue your Wyld Hunt and an opportunity presents itself, neither do you.”

“Is that…” Tivon paused hesitantly, “Is that what it feels like for you?”

“It is not merely my Wyld Hunt calling me to action.” Sgileas answered evasively, not wanting to dwell on the fact that  _ days  _ had passed already and that chances of Trahearne’s survival were growing dim. 

“Are you…” Tivon began and  _ thank the Pale Tree  _ for small miracles, because Tivon rephrased, “We will find him.” 

The hand that came to rest atop his shoulder and gave it a squeeze was more consolation than Sgileas wanted to admit, but however hard he tried to summon some sort of anger to snap at Tivon that he was in no need for it, he couldn’t. 

All this time in the jungle, day after day passing by with worry and guilt wearing him down, somewhere along that line Sgileas had lost his self reliance and the strength to deal with all of the vices tearing him apart by himself. 

Keeping up hope and faith when knowing fully well that Mordremoth could easily kill and transform Trahearne…

It was  _ hard, strenuous.  _ Almost...impossible. But that notion, that flare of hope… it was all Sgileas had.

So to have Tivon’s encouragement, to have a hand on his shoulder...it was not unpleasant. 

The realization came as quite a surprise for Sgileas.

“Yes.” Sgileas said quietly. “We will.”

It only came as an additional surprise when they found a small Pact encampment with survivors spread out over the forest floor. Everything about it was makeshift. Small campfires had been build, tents had been lazily put up and the injured lay on the ground on beds made from moss or old and worn cloaks.

"Ceera, how are the injured looking?" A human male in Seraph armor asked with his back turned toward the group.

"I won't sugarcoat it: not great. We're in no shape to join the others." The female asura replied briskly without even lifting her large eyes from the patient in front of her.

"Thank the gods, it's the commander!" The Scout said as he passed him by and the whole encampment seemed to glance up, even the injured and the weary.

It was good that Sgileas managed to stand tall without the staff holding most his weight now. These Pact survivors needed someone to look up to while everything seemed to fall apart. Sgileas approached the man in Seraph armor and promptly recognized him under the guise of wear and exhaustion. "Lieutenant Francis, are you in charge here?" He asked briskly and the man looked as if he was seeing a ghost, blue eyes beneath strands of oily hair blinking at him and the people behind him in surprise and awe.

"No, Commander, found these Priory folks on my way out of the wreckage. Ceera and Piera are calling the shots here."

The asura looked up at the mention of her name. "We're what's left of a Priory-led ship that crashed nearby." She added curtly.

"Most of our people have already headed east. We're helping those that couldn't get on their feet." A woman in priory clothing told them. Her robe had holes and singed marks and there were scratches along the side of her forearm.

"Ceera here found me half dead under a tree. Patched me up, good as new. Owe her my life." Francis said and gave the asura a fond smile.

"I'm a combat medic. It's my job to keep people alive on the battlefield." Ceera dead-panned, but underneath her sharp tone Sgileas could hear that she cherished the words.

"The other priory members… You said they headed east?" Sgileas interjected before they could get lost in their own conversation.

"That's right." The priory woman nodded. "Spotted some ancient-looking golden structures, and…well, you know us Priory folks and old, shiny things."

“ _ That  _ sounds oddly familiar.” Canach murmured from  the back, very clearly thinking of the Skritt.

"They started lighting up just now, right after some sylvari woman with a backpack ran through." Ceera added with a shrug.

"A sylvari with a backpack?" Sgileas echoed and Ceera nodded. "What direction was she headed in?"

"East, like the rest." Francis answered with a frown. "You know this sylvari?"

"I do." Sgileas answered sharply. "Can you keep this post?"

"We have little to no trouble so far." Francis nodded. "It will be done."

"We will be heading further in." Sgileas clarified. "Our forces are scattered throughout the jungle, but so long as we can hold our positions we are still in this fight. Tivon, give him your warbler."

Tivon stepped forward and undid the band holding the warbler on his hip before holding out the item toward Francis. The man took it with a dumbfounded expression.

"It is an instrument that is Itzel-sensitive." Sgileas explained. "Find them and their Scouts and mount our forces. We are not done with Mordremoth just yet."

"Yes sir." Francis nodded and was already moving to pack some necessary things before Sgileas added,

"We are expecting a female Charr and a Norn to follow us. Lead them our way when they come through."

Francis nodded and then Sgileas finally moved onward again, casting the injured in the camp only a brief glance. There were many more survivors than he'd at first thought and that in itself was a miracle all on its own. Perhaps now that they were in the heart of the enemies territory they could build up and gain ground until finally they could muster a force large enough to strike the Elder Dragon down.

_ This is not over yet,  _ Sgileas thought as he set onward. It became clear after only a few steps why the Priory members had set out to investigate whatever these glowing things were. It was a large round area bordering against high ledges to all sides, a building of old standing atop an elevated platform that was surrounded by a cleft. Around the building were four pillars that blinked almost furiously with golden and gilded light, and it was Tivon who brushed past him to gaze upon the construction with sudden awe fletched into his features.

"This…" Tivon breathed, eyes glinting. "I saw this. The Pale Tree showed me."

"The golden pillars." Sgileas remembered and Tivon nodded feverishly, his eyes gazing around with a dazed expression.

"Do you think Caithe and the egg are here?" Kas asked as her eyes wandered around the place, but she could not hide her fascination.

"I mean to find out." Sgileas replied and beckoned them all to follow, brushing past Tivon who still stood starstruck and when Sgileas cast him a glance, Tivon averted his eyes sheepishly. “It is natural to feel amazed,” Sgileas explained to the Druid, “A Wyld Hunt is stately and salient and its completion of chief importance to your life.”

“Did it…” Tivon began and walked alongside him, “What did the call of your Wyld Hunt feel like?”

Sgileas wondered if there were words in existence to cover not only the Wyld Hunt’s magnificence, but also its importance. After a few seconds he began, “It was a bellow of the earth, a wail of the rivers and the oceans. Tyria cried out in sentient pain, and it bestowed upon me my purpose with the faith of its accomplishment attached.”

“You knew you’d succeed?” Tivon asked hesitantly and Sgileas met his uncertain eyes, noticed that beside the awe and bewilderment there was fear of responsibility, fear of the future. 

“I know I have to.” Sgileas answered and knew very well that it was not an answer for Tivon at all - but the Druid looked humbled and nodded. “We can die before achieving the purpose of our life,” Sgileas continued. “But you already know that is no reason to stop your pursuit.”

Tivon nodded and quietly added, “I do.”

“All these talks of Wyld Hunts,” Canach mocked, “it’s an objective forced upon your mind.”

_ “And why do you reckon we possess such a calling?” Trahearne asked, his leafy hair whisked in the soft, warm breeze, “Why do you think our race possesses it, whilst other races search for their purpose their entire life?” _

Sgileas wanted to retort that Canach was simply envious, but that would simply show poor conversational value, yet Sgileas could not help but think that without a Wyld Hunt, a sylvari was inferior to those that were Valiants. 

“The Wyld Hunt is a gift,” Sgileas specified, “There is nothing forceful about it.”

“Ah, there isn’t?” Canach replied, “Not the fact that your head is wrapped around this idea constantly, not the fact than anything else seems unimportant except the one task set into your mind?”

“That is the nature of  _ purpose _ .” Sgileas argued. “If you had one, you’d spend all your energy and time for its achievement. You do it  _ willingly  _ and  _ voluntarily. _ ”

Well, so much for not getting personal. 

“Only you did not choose it.” Canach deadpanned. “It chose you.”

“And who is to say,” Sgileas continued down the path toward the mirrors, “that I would not have discovered it the  _ slow  _ way?”

“Yes, Commander,” Canach was squinting his eyes at him now, the roll of eyes imminent, “We, the normal ones, are  _ slow _ .”

This was why he and Canach could never have a normal conversation - one of them or both got too caught up being on top.

Sgileas made a low noise in his throat that resembled a growl, “I am not  _ slow _ .” He did not add the  _ Not anymore  _ because his pride disallowed it.

The corners of Canach’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smirk or smile, most likely in an act of self-preservation because Sgileas was slowly losing his temper. 

“Uhm.” Tivon made, squeezed between the two parties, and that was what brought Sgileas back to the task at hand. With a _ hmpf  _ he turned away, walking more briskly, knowing very well that Canach would surely smirk  _ now  _ at the fact that Sgileas felt he needed to prove he was better.

He was. There was no question.

“Is it just me,” Kas murmured to Jory in the back, “Or do they fight all the time?”

“That’s just how they are.” Jory shrugged her shoulders, “Under better circumstances I’d wager my money that they would actually never talk to one another.”

“I think they’re enjoying it.” Kas giggled and when Sgileas turned around to glare at her sharply, he noticed that Canach was doing the very same, startling the Mesmer into a silence that was interrupted only from a hiccup that erupted from her throat at the sudden, tense glares she received. 

Derwen, who had taken the rear position after Sgileas had taken the lead for this specific part of the mission, hummed cheerfully, “You should know that sylvari have excellent hearing.”

She blushed profusely and averted her eyes and Jory beside her stiffled her laughter.

The path lead down toward the first mirror and even further ahead Sgileas could make out tents and Pact members assembled in a small makeshift camp when Taimi suddenly exclaimed,

"Hello! Glowy person!" It took Sgileas a moment to see what or who she was referring to when he saw the shift of a golden armor blink out of existence. "Huh. It disappeared."

"Teleported." Rytlock grumbled.

"Well, obviously." Taimi dead-panned and Sgileas could almost hear the roll of her eyes.

A few Priory members were assembled around one of the pillars and one of them turned around in surprise, gasping, "Commander!"

"At ease." Sgileas said. "What is going on here?"

"We've made camp down the hill, near the big spire." The Priory member explained. "We discovered that the spires provide some security. We are currently focused on these strange runes. They're connected to the spires but we can't decipher them."

"Sounds like its up your aisle, Taimi." Kas grinned up at Scruffy and Taimi nodded eagerly.

"I’d love to- Oh! There's that glowy guy again!" As soon as they all turned to where she had pointed the golden armor blinked in the distance and disappeared once again. "I wonder why he's so shy."

"Unimaginable with asuran empirical curiosity inbound." Canach scorned.

"You'll have to keep wondering. He's gone again." Rytlock grumbled out, his claw lifted toward where Sohothin rested at his hip.

"Hey!" Taimi said, minding neither curtosy nor manner as she approached a priory scholar. "Who's that glowy person?"

"I have no idea. It never gets too close." The Priory member answered startled, staring up at Scruffy. There were quite a many things one did not expect to see in a jungle. A giant asuran golem plated with magitech armour housing a small asuran girl was definitely somewhere on that list.

"Also, tell me everything about these golden structures and-" Taimi began, her words flooding incessantly, but Sgileas did not wait for her to finish. "Hey!" She made and sighed before the thundering steps of Scruffy followed. "Okay, then. Let's go."

When the 'glowy person' appeared again Sgileas squinted his eyes. "You there, stop!" He demanded and the armour  _ turned _ , the golden helmet looking  _ at  _ him before it turned away almost nonchalantly. Rytlock growled and pushed past Sgileas and with a sudden brush of cool air and a zap that reverberated around the cliffs Rytlock suddenly stood right in front of the creature, cutting off its path.

"End of the line, pal." Rytlock growled. "Identify yourself."

"I'm in the midst of an important mission. I must follow the trail before it goes cold." The creature said with an apathetic and calm voice.

"What is your mission? Who do you serve?" Sgileas demanded to know and the armor cast him an assessing glance, if that was even possible without any eyes.

"I am Ruka." The creature or  _ thing  _ answered. "My people are charged with preserving life from the predations of Elder Dragons. Whom do you serve, Mordrem?"

Sgileas bristled. "I'm a sylvari, not a Mordrem." He clarified sharply. "My people have connections to the dragon, but we are not its slaves. I'm here to kill it."

"Good." Ruka nodded with a satisfied tone. "As for my mission, I'm tracking an…object. These devices respond to Glint's legacy, which means-"

"Caithe and the egg, it must be!" Tivon called out, all of the sudden alive with new energy. His eyes gleamed and the fingers around his staff twitched and Sgileas knew the signs of that kind of eagerness - that was Tivon's Wyld Hunt calling out to him.

The egg was not their path. Sgileas did not care about the egg at all. All that he wanted was to find the prison caravan and to find Trahearne, everything else…

_ Nothing  _ else mattered. 

"Did you say egg?" Ruka asked Tivon and Tivon nodded. "After all these years."

"Egg?" Derwen asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It is Glint's scion." Tivon breathed out and he sounded almost out of breath even though he had done nothing but talk. "My Wyld Hunt."

Recognition flared in Derwen's eyes and the Mesmer shifted slightly, walking toward Tivon’s side and glancing down at him. When Sgileas saw the two standing together he somehow had less trouble imagining that  _ something  _ had been there once. 

"You told me that it was related to the crystal wings and a shadow lurking beneath a sea of moss-green vines." The Mesmer murmured and Tivon as well as everyone else was stunned into silence. It was one of those moments that gave evidence to the fact that Derwen and Tivon had spent time together, that there had been so much more that either of them would most likely ever know. "The wings must have been a reference to Glint all along."

"You…," Tivon’s green eyes widened slightly in surprise, "You remember?"

Derwen's eyes were deep, never once glancing away from Tivon’s. "Of course I do."

Sgileas skin bristled and the strange, flirtatious tension in the air. If Derwen so much as lifted a hand he would cut it off, right then and there, but Tivon gulped and was able to tear his eyes away when Ruka spoke again. "I must go…quickly. I might need help. You may accompany me, if you wish."

"Yes." Tivon said quickly. "Of course."

"I should stay here for a while and get these people organized. They need me." Taimi interjected before Tivon could jog after the Exalted. "Besides, we should learn as much as we can about these magical defensive pillars."

"We'll be back as soon as we can." Tivon said breathlessly and was moving before any of them could stop him. Derwen cast Sgileas a glance and shrugged his shoulders before dashing after the Druid who moved briskly and nimbly and Sgileas was the one who had to follow, cursing himself inwardly.

"Listen here, Priory people." Taimi was saying somewhere behind them. "I have sensor equipment we can use to extrapolate more delicate data from the pillars."

This…it was  _ not  _ going as he had planned. They were supposed to go after the damned caravan, not after the egg. Not after Caithe.

_ Caithe. _

A bile rose up high in Sgileas' throat and his Shroud answered instinctively to the pure  _ hatred  _ boiling in his veins. He saw Canach from the corner of his eyes throw him a questioning, frowning glance but did not bother to explain. The path was moving downward into a large area where a figure was running toward a dark cave in the distance and Sgileas recognized the tuft of white hair before Rytlock even spoke.

"It's Caithe…and is that your egg she's carrying?"

Caithe was carrying a backpack that was made from ferns and vines, strapped tightly onto her back, but the Firstborn did not turn around, did not even seem to notice them approach, even when she suddenly came to a halt just a few feet in front of the cave. Tivon was at the head of the group, dashing over the plane of grass toward where Caithe stood, his burst of speed superior to everyone else's, and from the dark cave came a contorted Mordrem voice that was mixed with one that Sgileas knew.

"You've done well, Caithe." Purred a voice from the darkness within. Caithe said something and took a step back. "Bring the egg to me."

"What? The egg? The egg is my Wyld Hunt, and I can only trust myself with it." Caithe said, too caught up by the fact that Faolain’s voice was clearly coming from within the cave to notice that the others had almost reached her.

"We can all trust Mordremoth." Faolain said and Caithe shook her head wildly when a creature emerged from the darkness that was large, moving on four legs similar to the Vinetooth that had killed Faolain, but had Faolain's head instead.

"No!" Caithe cried and the creature lifted its front paw and swatted Caithe aside, her body flying through the air in an arc and the holster holding the egg falling from her shoulders as the bindings ripped.

Tivon's eyes followed its trajectory until it landed and dashed toward forward. Sgileas didn't even have time to summon a shadow or yell out when the Vinetooth swung its large, spiked tail in Tivon’s direction. There was a brush on Sgileas shoulder and he saw only streams of black and white flash by, there was the sound of glass shattering and Derwen blinked forward and appeared right behind Tivon, reached out toward the Druid and tore Tivon from his sprint down toward the ground. The tail missed them and swished over them in an arc. 

Sgileas summoned his shadows around him and made a sharp gesture with his hand, sending a small crescent of dark magic against the Mordrem's form. It wailed out in agony as the dark magic ripped through its skin and Canach was charging in in front of him, sword and shield lifted, feet thumping loudly on the ground.

Rytlock rolled Sohothin with a twist of his hand and then growled lowly, blurring into a distortion of grey brushes as he dislocated. A purple projectile from Kas’s staff flew past Sgileas shoulder toward the Vinetooth and Jory rushed toward the creature last, the greatsword hanging low at her side.

"I need the egg!" Faolain cried in frustration and shook its head when Kas’ projectile splintered against the side of its face.  When it tried to turn to where Tivon and Derwen were Canach and Rytlock struck as its exposed side, eliciting a cry of pain and frustration from the creature that caused it to turn to the assaliants instead.

Sgileas glanced over toward where Tivon was shaking his head with a dazed expression and grit his teeth. If they were going to do this, they might as well do it  _ right _ .

"Take the egg and run!" Sgileas cried.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Tivon's bark prickled when he saw the creature move, the tip of its tail barely a sliver of dark from the corner of his eyes when there was a loud shattering noise and then a force pushed into him, an arm slung around his body and he was pulled to the ground. The tail swished over them in a gust of air and their bodies scraped and slithered over the grass for a few inches before Tivon realized what had happened. He groaned and felt pressure around him, the strong tug of Derwen's arm and the press against his body warm and soft, the scent of lavender drifting into his nose.

The memory crashed back into him forcefully, so much so that it startled Tivon into temporary stillness that lifted the second that Derwen moved his arm.

Tivon propped himself up with a jerk and he stared at Derwen who was blinking dazedly before focus seemed to snap back into the light-black eyes. "Come on." Derwen said and as if it was  _ natural _ , as if they had not broken up all those months ago, as if the ache in Tivons chest that came as a cruel reminder was nothing but an  _ illusion  _ Derwen gripped his arm and pulled him to his feet and the propelled him toward where the egg had fallen from its container.

Tivon stumbled forward two steps, stared at the egg and then back at Derwen. Sgileas' cry barely even reached his ears over the thrum that went through him in warm pulses.

Derwen looked determined and focussed and summoned his staff from thin air with a graceful flick of his wrist and gave Tivon a nod. "Go on." Derwen said. "We've got your back."

Tivon's mouth was too dry to speak. His eyes lingered on Derwen for a moment longer before he tore his eyes away and gripped the egg from the ground and-

And-

A light-headedness overcame him, everything began to lighten as if sunlight had shed away into prismatic rays of white. His surroundings seemed to glow and gleam and he staggered where he stood, gasping for breath.  _ "What's happening?"  _ Tivon asked, but his voice didn't carry. It echoed around him, reverberated through time and space, but nobody seemed to hear him. When he turned to look over his shoulder he saw the others - Sgileas, Canach, Kas, Jory, Rytlock, and Derwen as if they were moving in slow motion, barely blurs in the river of time.

Derwen was moving toward him, his form contorted and distorted, weaving in and out of existence. "Tivon." Derwen said, voice echoing loudly all around him and then, suddenly, Derwen's form appeared clearly as if he'd managed to transcend and shift into Tivon’s plane, as if he'd managed to slow down time, as if-

Somehow Tivon did not doubt that Derwen could do that.

"Go on. Worry later." Derwen said encouragingly, voice still echoing and sending a shiver over Tivon’ spine.

Why why  _ why  _ was he being like this?

“Go on?” Tivon asked and turned his head in confusion. “I don’t even know-”

Derwen lifted his hand and the veil of white around Tivon lifted, cracking like pieces in a broken glass mirror and falling down, fading into the ground as if they were phantoms and ghosts.

The world seemed to shift into place once again, reality oozing back into his consciousness and he dragged in a sharp breath he had not known he'd held. Derwen's head shot around toward where the Mordrem gave a low growl and twisted toward them, dark eyes glinting down at Tivon.

"Go." Derwen urged and pushed against his chest, pushing him away. "Go!"

The Mordrem moved and the second it did, Tivon turned around and dashed down the path toward the cave, ducking beneath the protruding roots that almost seemed to stretch out to grasp him. Faolain behind him gave a frustrated cry and Tivon jumped over a large rock and landed with a splash in a small stream, his feet slipping over the uneven and wet ground for an instant before he caught his footing and continued toward where the stream came from, exiting the cave and stepping into a glade flooded with sunlight. 

For but a moment the only sound beside his harsh, panting breath was the patter and the sloshing of the waterfall in the distance, and water sprayed off to the side as he continued to run through the bed of the stream, eyes searching over high cliff walls that encased him.

He came to a sudden halt, catching his breath, whirling around in search for a route, an escape -

Vines sprang from the riverbank at the sides from the ground, scattering dirt and slashing out toward his direction and Tivon ducked away with a surprised cry, dodging the gunk that was thrown in his direction and dashing toward the temporary safety of the overhang.

"This way!" A voice called and Tivon glanced upward and saw the Exalted Ruka standing atop the cliffs, beckoning him to follow. Stream of golden magic flowed from the armour in a palpable breeze, but however soothing that might have been, it was not right now.

"That-" Tivon breathed, eyes growing larger when he saw that the ground was churning and he felt Mordremoth's corruption bleed beneath the earth as Mordrem Wolves burst from the ground. 

He squeezed again the wall, clenching the egg tightly toward his chest with his one arm, the other splaying against the wall. 

He was trapped. 

There was only the one way to go back and even as he considered that, the vines around the cave entrance closed tightly, knotting and twining to cut off his escape.

_ By the Pale Tree _ .

_ “Mine.”,  _ Mordremoth said growling and Tivon shivered.  _ “You are mine. You are the Keeper.” _

"Use the hatchling's power!" Ruka called over Mordremoth’s booming voice and Tivon looked up in desperation. "It has chosen you!"

Chosen?  _ Him? _

The Mordrem rose from the earth and rushed toward him, gaining speed and Tivon did the only one thing he could. He dashed toward the cliffs where Ruka was. It was all the chance he had. He could scale and climb the cliff, difficult as it would be with only one hand, but perhaps even fast enough to evade the Mordrem and-

When he jumped into the air to reach out for a jut over his head it was as if an updraft had caught beneath his body. It dragged him higher into the air and he gasped when the ground disappeared with sickening speed beneath his feet, his arms and legs flailing as he reached out to reach anything at all, and then his palms latched onto the cliffside and the lift stopped and gravity resumed its function, pulling his body down. 

The jerk of his body weight strained his arms but he pulled himself easily after the initial scare, heat and adrenaline pumping through him, his thoughts churning and all but causing nothing but chaos and questions in his head.

He knelt on the ground and lifted his hands to inspect them. They were trembling slightly and he realized that the egg was gone. His chest clenched tightly and he skittered toward the edge, glancing down, eyes searching for any sign of the egg, but instead he only saw the many Mordrem Wolves that had collected at the bottom, trying to scale up the steep climb with no avail. 

If the egg had been down there, surely they would have gathered around it instead. 

_ “Keeper,”  _ Mordremoth growled and Tivon gulped and slowly stepped from the ledge,  rising to his feet,  _ “Bring me the egg.” _

Keeper.

_ Keeper. _

_ “Oh,”  _ Tivon thought and staggered where he stood. That was what it was, that was why Mordremoth called him that, why his reflection had called him that, why he-

He was the  _ Keeper of the Egg.  _

Ruka was staring down at him and even though the Exalted had neither eyes nor face, Tivon imagined that he smiled, but he felt nauseous at his revelation.  "Follow me. The danger is not yet passed."

"What…" Tivon gasped and pointed behind him as he walked. "What was that?"

"The egg." Ruka explained. "Glint's hatchling has chosen you as its protector."

"It…" Tivon began, the memory that welled up inside only adding to all the turmoil.

_ Exhilaration, lightheadedness, a first kiss in the glow of the stars.  _

"It remind me of the Zephyrite crystals. But it's stronger."

Ruka didn't answer. "Through here. Hurry."

"What am I -" Tivon began, but did not get to finish when the vine wall beside them broke apart, splinters of wood creaking and shattering against the stones. Through the cloud of dirt stumbled the Vinetooth with Faolain's head and shook it fervently before resting its eyes on Tivon.

"The egg." It hissed and Tivon was dashing, running toward the small crevice in front, ducking beneath the large tail as it shattered into the stone overhead. His body squeezed easily into the crevice and beyond and he tumbled into a cave, feet carrying him over a patch of grass. He lifted his arms as large leaves obstructed his view and he gasped when he saw the creature running up another pathway, nearly intercepting him.

There was only one path ahead that he could go and he jumped over a pile of stones, his arms bracing himself against another array of branches before his heart nearly bottomed out. Before him was a large advance angled slightly sky-ward and then, for a very, very long time, there was nothing.

"The egg!" Faolain screeched behind him, the feet of the creature thundering and reverberating in the stone beneath and Tivon dashed toward the ledge and lunged into the air. For a breathless second he glanced below and saw that there was a long fall that awaited him. His fingers barely braced against the bindings of his glider when he felt the surge of the egg's power once again and just after he felt the falling sensation, it ended.

His body jolted and he gasped, something  _ carrying  _ him across. When he turned his head to look over his shoulder he saw the wide wings that reminded him not only of his vision of his Wyld Hunt, but also of Rytlock's new-found abilities from the mists. They were crystal wings, barely translucent and glittering in the sunlight, and they stretched out far above him, helping him glide across.

When he glanced over his shoulder he saw Faolain pacing the advance, glaring at him furiously and letting out a loud cry of frustration before she turned and disappeared, tail swishing over the edge.

Tivon lifted his feet and braced himself for the landing, taking a couple of steps to adjust before he nearly fell to his knees. His body was quivering, his hands shaking, knees knocking together and despite the fact that he felt confused and terrified, he felt also giddy and exhilarated. It was a strange combination of emotions and when he lifted his head Ruka came toward him, head tilted slightly.

"The hatchling chose well." Ruka praised and Tivon gulped. "You'll be a fine champion for it."

_ Champion?  _ Tivon echoed, but Ruka was beckoning him to follow once again and Tivon obliged.

_ Champion or Keeper,  _ that was what made the difference. To Mordremoth he was to keep the egg, most likely to prevent its hatching, and as its champion, he was tasked with not only its protection, but to fight in its name. 

He was…

"Where…are we?" Tivon asked, his gaze wandering over the various plants and cliff-sides, but he saw nothing familiar.

"Near the camp where we met." Ruka answered and then held up a hand as a signal for him to stop. Below them was a group of Mordrem that looked like they were searching for him and the egg. "We're not quite safe yet: we still need to reach the main pylon." Ruka pointed toward the golden tower in the distance and Tivon nodded. "Go on ahead. I'll distract the remaining Mordrem and meet you there. We need to discuss your next steps."

Tivon did not get the chance to ask anything because Ruka simply disappeared in a flash of golden light and displaced himself below, luring and distracting the Mordrem enough that Tivon could climb below and sneek toward the golden pillar in the distance. The shake and tremble of his body stopped only slowly and he could barely catch a clear thought in the mess that was his head.

The Pillars gleamed in the set of the sun and Tivon came closer slowly. In the distance he saw Taimi and the members of the Priory busy with the strange mirrors or Pilons or whatever they were, and before he got to call out as he ascended the steps Ruka appeared from thin air, making him halt in his steps.

The egg was strapped tightly on Tivon's back - how it had gotten there from his hands was a mystery to him, but most likely it involved the Hatchling's magic that enhanced his abilities and his inherent ability to grow parts of his armor and body - and somehow, despite the fact that Ruka had lead him out safely, Tivon was suspicious.

"You could have taken the egg." Tivon noticed. "Why didn't you?"

"I don't want to possess the egg. I want to protect it." Ruka's voice was calm. "It chose you as its bearer."

"It chose me?" Tivon asked confused. "How could it choose me?"

There was a small pause. "I can't answer that question. All I can do is support you."

"And…What happens now?" Tivon asked cautiously.

"You need to go south to Tarir, the city of the Forgotten. It's a safe place, built to shield the egg as it hatches."

Tivon averted his eyes and shook his head. "The egg is so important. I'm not sure I trust anyone anymore."

Ruka seemed like he understood. "Trust yourself. Your instincts brought you here for a reason. While you have the egg, every Mordrem alive will be after you." Tivon looked up at that and knew it was the truth; the fact that Mordremoth had sprouted Mordrem simply to capture him meant that the egg was  _ that  _ important. The fact that Mordremoth had designed  _ him  _ for the task of being its  _ Keeper  _ way before Tivon had even known of the egg’s existence was overwhelming. "Get it to Tarir. And hurry. I'll go on ahead to inform the Exalted and make sure the city is ready to receive you."

Without another word Ruka disappeared and left Tivon to contemplate his thoughts and left him to his churning, uncertain mind.


	57. Prized Possessions Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, part III already. This is dragging out so long and I apologize - but it's all important I promise! This is the last part of this; The City of Hope coming next :3

The second Tivon turned the creature fell into a frenzy. Sgileas cast a siphon between himself and the beast, sucking life-force incessantly from it with swarms of dark magic, but the dark tether broke apart when the creature twisted out and away, haunches clammed tightly before it launched into the air and atop of him, causing the ground to vibrate and the earth to rattle. With a huff Sgileas fell to the ground and felt it press into his back and barely dodged the sharp tail as it sunk tip-first into the ground beside his head and with a painful throb he pulled his legs over his head and rolled over his shoulders, his body aching as he forced himself to his feet and stumbled backward. With a grit of his teeth he swung the staff and formed a shadowed, sharp blade with his magic, his shroud lashing out at all sides, cutting underneath the creatures chin, and his blade cut into the creature's belly, eliciting a wail that was so shrill that Sgileas could not hear anything but a loud, annoying beeping noise.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the sensation when the creature dashed over him, hind legs nearly crashing into him had his shroud not allowed it to pass through. He manifested again and made a pulling motion with his hand, but even as the life force collected in his palm the creature didn't seem to be deterred at all - all it did was move toward where Tivon had left into the thicket of the cave and as Sgileas' hearing returned, he heard various pairs of feet arrive beside him.

"We must go after it." Canach said and Sgileas gave a grave nod, not trusting himself to speak.

"You look worse for wear, Commander." Derwen said with a satisfied smile.

"Tivon's out there alone against that thing!" Kas protested, "Come on, we have to follow it."

"Right behind you." Jory said and they were moving, Derwen disappearing with them into the cave, but Sgileas stood rooted and gripped his flank and took a deep, ragged breath. He saw Canach from the corner of his eyes mustering him, but he did not cast the secondborn a glance.

"Go." he ordered. "I'm fine."

Canach didn't move.

Sgileas cursed underneath his breath and glared at where Caithe was rising from the ground with a groan. Rytlock was crouching beside her, Sohothin hissing at his waist. "So." The Tribune said. "I see there is some explaining that needs to be done."

Caithe looked up at Sgileas who stumbled closer and he didn't even try to hide the burning hatred that he felt for her - not this time. "There is nothing you can say." Sgileas spat.

"I am not here to justify myself." Caithe shot back equally heated and rose to her feet, staring in between the three. "The egg is my Wyld Hunt."

"It is  _ Tivon's _ Wyld Hunt." Sgileas cut sharply and the Shroud at his back moved with a menacing twist. "You have interfered enough."

"I protected the egg." Caithe argued. "that monster -  _ Faolain -  _ What has Mordremoth done to her?"

"She is dead." Sgileas dead-panned and he recognized the fear and anguish that crossed into Caithe's eyes. If he did not hate her so, perhaps he would have felt at least a bit of pity for her. "She murdered Eir and paid the price."

Caithe lowered her head and bit her lip, clearly fighting with an emotion. Sgileas opened his hand and let the shadows dance over his palm, forming a crescent, dark knife in his hand. "You've betrayed us." Sgileas seethed. "Did you know what would happen if we flew here? No, don’t answer that, I am in no mood for lies."

She looked up at him, her eyes darting toward the blade in his hand and she flinched back. "I knew of our origins." Caithe said, eyeing the blade from the corner of her eyes. "But no more."

"You didn't tell  _ us _ ." Sgileas hissed. "The Pact,  _ Trahearne  _ \- it all fell apart because of  _ your  _ incompetence."

"You would have flown against the Elder Dragon no matter what I would have said." Caithe argued. "Mordremoth needed to be stopped, and I did not know it would call the sylvari. Do you think I wouldn't have stopped it if I had known?"

"You've tried tearing  _ us  _ apart before." Sgileas accused with such a sharp edge to his voice that Caithe flinched once again. "You act only on your own personal gain."

"I carried the secret of our origin  _ alone _ ." she reminded him. "That secret alone would have torn us apart and it weighed on my shoulders -"

"Yes," Sgileas interjected and rolled his eyes, "How hard it must have been to  _ keep your mouth shut _ ."

Caithe's jaw snapped closed at that and she glared daggers at him. "So what?" she asked. "Are you going to kill me?"

Sgileas clenched his fingers around the hilt of the crescent dagger in his palm that was of no real material form. The shadows twitched against his hand, eager for the essence that was soon to be released. "Yes." Sgileas said, voice so terribly low that there was a sizzle in the air, a cold pervading from his skin that froze parts of the ground underneath his feet into sheets of ice.

Caithe met his eyes evenly - she was bold and brave, he had to give her that - and she lifted her chin defiantly. "Mother will never forgive you if you do."

That…made Sgileas  _ actually  _ pause.

"She forgave you for killing Wynne." Sgileas reminded her, but she did not retreat from her ground.

"After a time, yes. Because I did what was necessary. This…," her eyes trailed toward the dagger that curled around his hand and fingers, shadows licking over his skin, "…is  _ not  _ necessary. It is to satisfy your own sense of justice, but it won't bring Trahearne back."

Sgileas  _ hated  _ her. No,  _ loathed  _ her. If she had not said that last sentence, if she had not mentioned  _ Trahearne _ , perhaps he would have considered that the pain of her demise would cause their Mother far more distress than Sgileas was ever willing to cause, he might have thought it to be enough reason to let her live to see another day, but  _ now… _

She noticed her mistake and the shift of his expression and even as he stepped forward she stepped back and quick as a shadow she dodged beneath his shadow, infuriatingly nimble and  _ quick _ , and with one last glance she disappeared into the shadows, leaving no trace behind of ever having been here. Sgileas growled and swung around, his entire arm encased in a mixture of dark magic and ice and let the vortex of combined magic shatter on the floor. A crackling ripple went through the ground and it froze on impact, ice shards and crystals sprouted from the force, water pushed from the ground and freezing in the air by the cold of the magic, but he couldn't  _ feel  _ her life-force at all, as if she was already gone.

With a frustrated cry he ripped his arm free from the frozen apex and all ice shattered around them with an ear-splintering crash.

He was panting harshly, each breath of air seemed an agony in itself and the frustration and  _ bitterness  _ crawled up his spine, he tasted it in his mouth and grimaced.  _ "Don’t lose it." _ He told himself and closed his eyes against the overwhelming emotion of fury and anger and he wanted nothing more than to rip apart every tree, to pull out every root and cut through every vine until he found what he was looking for. " _ Calm. Stay. Calm." _

It took a few moments and staccato breaths for him to actually achieve it, even though the bloodlust was running wild in his veins. He could feel it licking him from the inside, the Shroud answering avidly to his every emotion because it too was  _ frustrated _ , it too had  _ lost _ . Trahearne's Shroud had been its counterpart, just as much a puzzle piece that finally fit and merged together as it had been for Sgileas.

Thankfully neither Canach nor Rytlock spoke a word. The two stood and waited patiently after having taken a few cautious steps back and Sgileas was grateful for that. He was not sure if he had not lashed out at them in his anger as well.

He took another deep, staggering breath before he erected himself, his body having hunched forward. From the cave he could see Kas, Jory and Derwen reappearing, but Tivon was not among them.

He waited for them to approach. "Where is he?" Sgileas demanded to know and Kas shook her head in dismay.

"He's…gone. We couldn't find a trace of him. There were Mordrem everywhere…"

_ By the Pale Tree _ . Had Tivon been captured? Had Mordremoth not only Tivon but the egg now as well?  _ And  _ Caithe had slipped from his fingers?

"He might have been captured." Jory pointed out the obvious, but Derwen turned his head, gazing toward the golden pillar that marked Northwatch.

"…No." Derwen murmured thoughtfully. "He's here."

Jory frowned at him. "How do you know?"

Derwen smiled down at her amicably and tapped with one of his long, dark fingers toward his clavicle before he set in motion without a word, but an explanation was not necessary anyhow.

Tivon's necklace. Could the Mesmer sense Tivon's presence through it? Distance? But then why had the Mesmer not seen them coming when he had been captured?

"You  _ enchanted  _ it." Kas gasped and Derwen shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"A minor spell, I assure you."

"You will dispel it." Kas ordered sharply and Derwen chuckled.

"You are free to attempt to dispel it yourself. You might even manage it."

"You can't just-" She began furiously before she emphasized, "You can't just enchant people's stuff!"

"As a matter of fact, it is mine." Derwen said matter-of-factly, "You would do well to remember that."

"Then take it back." Kas demanded and briskly walked abreast of him to give him a glare.

"Why would I?" Derwen asked. “Why is it that you think you can order me around?”

“You’ve hurt Tivon enough,” Kas answered sharply, “I’ll not allow you to hurt him again.”

"You know nothing of us." Derwen said as he let the butt of his staff hit the ground harder than was most likely necessary, a spark of white erupting from the tip. "It is presumptuous of you to  _ assume  _ one can be without the other."

"Don't even." Kas was furious now. "I swear, by the Gods, if you harm him, if you hurt him-"

" _ Please _ ." Derwen rolled his eyes. "Pain forms experiences, and experiences  _ shape  _ lives. It is the way of the world. I simply accelerate the process."

"He  _ loved  _ you!" She screamed at him, finally snapping and losing her bearing. Her cheeks were red from anger, her eyes glaring up at him with menace and they both came to a halt. Derwen mustered her for a moment with an apathetic expression before he answered, calmly and collected,

"And I love him, still."

A long, drenched silence followed in which Kas looked as if she had been slapped and she blinked at Derwen a few times. "You-" She began, the winds that had stoked her anger taken away in a single breath. "You don't  _ love  _ him." She hissed.  "Nobody  _ hurts  _ someone they love intentionally."

Derwen smiled at that, almost ruefully. "My dear," he said, "I have told you not to be quite so presumptuous. What I did was purely egoistic, I assure you."

Kas' eyes widened. "You wanted him to turn to Nightmare." She breathed "You wanted him…you  _ twisted  _ him so he would  _ stay _ with you?"

"That  _ does  _ sound like something I would do." Derwen replied cheerfully and as he took the lead he left Kas behind, gaping at him in complete confusion.

Sgileas could do nothing but watch as the conversation took place, and there were only two points he agreed on, and strangely, he agreed with  _ Derwen. _

He found that indeed, a sylvari connection ran deeper than that of a human, that they loved infinitely stronger and without care for appearances or gender. Their love was unblemished, they loved without any superstition. 

The other being that Kasmeer would never understand sylvari entirely and that if she refused to acknowledge that, that she would only be frustrated. 

The question Sgileas asked himself however as he watched the conversation take place  _ why  _ Derwen was allowing this inane line of questioning, and  _ why  _ he was answering. 

“You are despicable. You can’t love him. You’re lying.”

Derwen gave her a broad smile from over his shoulder, “I thought you could tell?”

If Kas could turn a deeper shade of crimson, she would have. 

“Enough bickering.” Sgileas interrupted sharply. “We must find him.”

“Follow me.” Derwen beckoned and set the pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caithe escapes and Sgileas is pissed. Yup.


	58. City Of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow.  
> Sheesh.  
> *takes deep breath*  
> This chapter, I swear to god. It was the most difficult thing to write and get right. I scratched like three attempts before I had it right, and even now I don't know if it REALLY IS because this is so DIFFICULT to put down right. I am especially talking about the talk Tivon and Derwen had... I guess you will see.  
> It took me four days to formulate this, and that is also why I am behind. The next chapter is only fresh in the making and should be easier to formulate now, but wow, I've had nights where I could not sleep because this was gnawing at me.  
> Please, please, please, let me know what you think. It is real important to me what you think about Derwen. Is he in character, does it make sense? Is there anything that does not make sense for you any longer, or something that you find confuses you?  
> I wrote this with his backstory in mind and there will be lines that will make sense at a later time, but even knowing that you can always ask away.  
> And now I hope you enjoy yourself. A bit, at least. And I'll try to clear my head a bit.

Tivon glanced over his shoulder when he heard his friends approach and felt the straps of the backpack that held the egg tighten.

The first one he saw was Derwen coming up the stairs, and the drag of Derwen’s eyes over his body felt like a caress, assessing and searching for injury. “Tivon.” Derwen said, both as statement and greeting and Tivon stood still like an animal caught in a trap, only releasing the breath he had unconsciously held when Sgileas approached, glad that he was not about to be alone with Derwen once again. Beside the Necromancer’s feet skittered Kota, sharp legs clattering on the platform in eager anticipation, vaulting into Tivon’s shins with a delighted squeal.

Tivon knelt down with a smile, petting Kota atop the shell. “I am fine.” Tivon soothed the small Karka that refused to leave his side.

Vail sailed down from a protruding jut of the golden pillar atop the branches of Tivon’s staff as Sgileas who still held it came to a halt. The Necromancer gave Vail a short glance before he turned to look at Tivon, eyes trailing at the vines that curled over his shoulder like a nest to hold the oval-shaped glowing egg, “You have it.” Sgileas noted.

The Necromancer looked...tired. Exhausted even, Tivon noticed.

“Yes,” Tivon said hesitantly and looked up to meet Sgileas eyes after giving Kota another reassuring squeeze, “Ruka told me that I must bring it to Tarir where it will be safe.”

“Can we trust this glowy thing?” Rytlock asked with a frown furrowing the fur on his face, making him look even more grouchy. “It is a bit too noisy for my tastes.”

“More importantly, what and where is Tarir, and what manner of defense do they have against Mordremoth?” Sgileas interjected.

“I don’t know.” Tivon admitted and brought himself to full height, hands brushing over the leaves on his thighs. “According to Ruka Tarir lies south of here, and it is meant to shelter the egg.”

“We can not trust them.” Rytlock grumbled and tilted his head to the side, a crack coming from somewhere on his spine. “We’re deep in Mordremoth’s territory. Who is to say that this Ruka isn’t another form of servant?”

Tivon noticed that Derwen was staring at him blatantly still, the staff resting in the palm of his hand while he leaned casually against it. When Derwen tilted his neck to reveal his neck in an obvious flirtatious nature, Tivon quickly glanced away to Kas who looked positively furious. She threw Derwen a glare and brushed past the Mesmer before approaching Tivon.

“Kas?” Tivon asked unsure what he had done and her gaze softened somewhat.

“We went after you and Faolain.” She explained, “but you were gone. Where did you go? We feared Mordremoth captured you.”

Tivon smiled reassuringly, glad that apparently he was not the one to set her into furious mode. “I am sorry for worrying you.” Tivon began and then pointed toward the egg that was strapped onto his back. “Ruka said that the egg chose me as its bearer. It...ah...empowered me?”

“Empowered you.” Sgileas echoed disbelieving.

Tivon licked his lip nervously and closed his eyes, thinking back to the time when he had jumped from the advance and he’d seen the wings. The flare of magic felt warm like sunlight, flooding him from within and this time he felt it slowly spreading in a translucent form of glittering, crystalline wings.

“Gods.” Kas breathed and Tivon glanced over his shoulders, mustering the wings that swayed gently as if caressed by a breeze.

“They are beautiful.” Jory acquiesced and Rytlock stepped closer. Were it not for the blindfold, Tivon would have described the expression on the Charrs’s face as reverie.

“Those are Glint’s.” The Tribune noticed and the wings slowly dispersed, growing invisible until nothing but a faint glitter around Tivon remained nobody had noticed before.

“It is her scion.” Tivon corrected. “I’m…. I am it’s champion.”

“What does that mean?” Kas asked, her eyes still blown wide.

“He is not coming with us.” Jory cut in and Tivon gulped and lowered his head.

“It is my Wyld Hunt.” He said apologetically.  “I need to protect the egg from Mordremoth.”

“The dragon wants it.” Derwen murmured, eyeing him carefully. “It is a dangerous task.”

“One that is best completed alone.” Sgileas cut in. “If the hatchling shares such powers with you, you are fastest without us slowing you down.”

“You must get it out of the jungle, the Silverwastes...but where?” Kas asked.

“I…” Tivon gulped and looked away sheepishly, “I wish to explore the possibility of Tarir. Ruka was the one who lead me out of the mess, and he did not attempt to take the egg from me. Instead he said he only meant to protect it and that there are more if his kind, the Exalted, waiting to receive the egg in Tarir.”

“More of them?” Rytlock grumbled.

Tivon gave a nod. “If they are truthful, then the egg would be safe. And I owe it to you to be there when Mordremoth falls.”

“If the dragon wants it, then it must be important.” Jory murmured. “Even if these Exalted are not what they seem, I would not endanger the egg by dragging you along, even if all it does is spite Mordremoth.”

The response surprised Tivon. He had expected Jory to be angry or hurt, but she wasn’t. Instead she was supportive and her eyes met his own with confidence.

“Then we will head to Tarir.” Sgileas decided. “If these Exalted are what they seem, they will be a valuable ally against Mordremoth.”

Tivon nodded in agreement and set out to follow Sgileas down the steps when Kas’ hand on his arm stopped him. “Kas?” Tivon asked unsure and her eyes trailed over his neck and she sighed.

“I know we must focus, but you need to know. The pendant you are wearing? Derwen messed with it somehow.”

Tivon blinked down at her. “Yeah. I know.”

She was clearly flabbergasted now. “You...know?”

True, Tivon had never given it much thought, but _no normal pendent_ would have been able to summon a person. There had to be some sort of spell upon it, now that Tivon thought about it.

Derwen chuckled behind them. “She wants to undo my enchantment. And for you to return it.”

“That is-” Kas sputtered and shook her head, resigning herself. “Does it not bother you? That he can track you wherever you go?”

“Oh.” Tivon was flushed now. “I...didn't think about how it works?”

Derwen laughed at that. It was a more full, rich laugh, not the cruel one Tivon had imprinted in his memory. “He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

“Shut up.” Kas hissed at Derwen and held out her hand to Tivon. “I will attempt to dispel it for you.”

“Kas…” Tivon began hesitantly and he did not meet Derwen’s eyes. “Thank you, but...I want to keep it. Just the way it is.”

She lowered her hand, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “But...why?”

Derwen’s eyes burned into him, _through_ him, but Tivon did not look. Instead he curled his fingers around the pendant and lowered his gaze. “It helps remind me I loved nothing but an Illusion.”

Kas’ eyes softened and she took a deep breath. “All right.” She murmured and then tangled her arm around his and tugged him along. “Let’s catch up with the others.”

Derwen stood rooted for a moment longer, white-black eyes sparkling and pattern pulsing with more strength and colour. His face was guarded as if cut from the bark of a tree, eyes unreadable - but the intensity in them wasn’t.

 

***

 

Along the way they picked up Taimi who only reluctantly left the pylons behind. “Apparently they are powered up by Glint’s energy.” Taimi yapped on, not bothering to confirm that anyone was interested. “As soon as the Outpost powered up no Mordrem could enter.”

That certainly got their attention. “How does it work?” Jory asked and Taimi rolled her eyes.

“I might have discovered that if you had not dragged me away. But I am sure this city of yours will be just as interesting. I mean, a lost, magical and _ancient_ city in the midst of a jungle ruled by an Elder Dragon? _That_ is worth investigating.”

“We are there to assure they are what they claim to be.” Sgileas reminded her.

“If they are lying I will know.” Kas said confidently.

“Are you sure?” Derwen brought in with a taunting smile.

“ _You_ have done nothing _but_ lie all your life.” Kas spat, not even bothering to hide the scorn in her voice. “ It would take a lifetime to list them all.”

“Is there any bite to your bark?” Derwen asked casually, clearly enjoying himself.

“You should know I am not all smiles.” Kas warned and pointedly ignored his teasing smile.

“Honey, you are wasting your time.” Jory soothed.

“No, no. Do keep going. I rarely get to enjoy company like this.” Derwen grinned.

“Wonder why.” Canach replied dryly.

Tivon saw the gilded glitter through the leaves first and dashed forward, jumping over a fallen over tree with grace.

“Tiv? Hey, wait up!” Taimi called and even though she attempted to run, Scruffy was the slowest of the party.

Tivon came to a halt on a small advance from which he could overlook parts of the city’s walls, staring right at the large, heavy and gilded gate. In front of it floated a familiar set of armour and Tivon recognized Ruka, the golden form weaving softly in a breeze.

The steps behind him announced that the others had caught up and he crouched low, placed his hand atop the earth and jumped down the advance, skittering and sliding down the slope before he finally stood at the bottom, finding his balance easily.

He was too caught up with the beauty of the city and the daunting yet exciting kind of anxiety that filled his insides. He felt charged, loaded even, and he stepped closer cautiously when he heard a loud shriek behind him and whirled around.

Kota came tumbling down the slope, rolling down and scattering parts of the earth everywhere before Tivon caught the Karka with his hands, bringing the companion to an abrupt stop.

“Kota.” Tivon chuckled and the Karka slowly planted down its sharp legs, one at a time, still staggering uneasily. Tivon thought he could see the slight roll in Kota’s eyes from the dizziness.

Kota made an affirmative chirp and shook his body wildly before looking up at him. Tivon wondered what his companions must be thinking, and what they thought of the egg. Curiously enough Vail had barely moved from the top of his staff that was still held by Sgileas. Was that a sign? Was the Raven angry at him, distancing himself? Or was he jealous of the egg?

The others used Kas’s portal to come down and all of them glanced over the massive walls and the gate that straightened high into the air above their heads. “It’s…” Kas began, her eyes trailing over the construction, “How did Mordremoth not affect this place?”

“I told you!” Taimi cried in exasperation, “They have shields and barriers that keep the Mordrem out.”

Sgileas seemed less fascinated and more suspicious by the discovery and stepped beside him. “Tread carefully.” The Necromancer cautioned and gave Tivon a glance. Tivon nodded, mistaking it is a signal for him to move, but Sgileas held him back by his wrist with a firm tight grip. “Not you. You wait here.”

“But-” Tivon wanted to protest and Sgileas shook his head.

“You have the egg. If something happens you must leave us behind and flee at a moment's notice.” Sgileas glanced down at Kota who refused to leave more than a few inches between him and Tivon. “Your companions will be safe with us.”

That… it sounded awfully like goodbye, as if Sgileas had no faith that the Exalted could be allies and thought instead that they would have to fight their way out of this. Sgileas was only being cautious, Tivon knew, but it made the possibility of a fight appear far too real.

Still, Tivon gave a curt nod. “Alright.” He murmured in dismay and Sgileas placed a hand atop his shoulder, gave it a short squeeze and then moved past him.

“Rytlock, Canach, with me.”

The trio moved to where Ruka stood and waited. A short conversation was held and Ruka cast Tivon a few glances before giving a nod. The massive doors of the gate opened slowly, revealing only a portion of the magnificent and breathtaking sight of the city inside. The three of them waded in and disappeared and two other Exalted took the guard places at the gate, unmoving and vigilant.

“They will be fine.” Derwen suddenly said beside him and Tivon nearly jumped.

“Do you know the Exalted?” Tivon asked and Derwen shook his head.

“I do not. But just as your glamorous friend can, I as well am able to detect lies. So far there have been none from the creature by the name of Ruka.”

“They could be good liars.” Kas interjected and pushed in between them. “We will have to wait and see.”

Derwen ignored her expertly and glanced at Tivon instead. “What does your instinct tell you?”

“My instinct?” Tivon echoed surprised. “I doubt that-”

“Yes, that is what you do. You doubt.” There was a small pause and Derwen’s eyes burned into his own. Tivon’s mouth turned dry and he gulped, feeling trapped and caught. Why was it that after all this time, Tivon still felt breathless in Derwen’s presence? “Trust your instincts.”

Tivon wanted to burst, emotions of frustration crawling up his spine. _“Why do you insist on that? Why do you insist that if I had listened to my instincts, I would have known? Is it just another scheme to make me feel guilty? Ashamed?”_

“What does your instinct tell you?” Derwen continued to coax. Kas stood awkwardly between them, glancing at Tivon with a questioning and curious glance, awaiting his answer.

Tivon took a deep breath. “To trust the Exalted.” Tivon finally admitted and lowered his head.

“And?” Derwen gleaned patiently.

“And…” Tivon gulped, “and to trust you to lead us to Trahearne.”

“Good.” Derwen praised and for a moment Tivon expected that Derwen would move toward him and pet his head, but that didn’t happen.

 _Of course not,_ Tivon reprimanded and slapped himself mentally, _stop being an idiot._

“Should we not be moving?” Derwen asked with the hint of an encouraging smile and Tivon was torn between doing what his instincts told him, the pattern of his skin giving a vibrating glow that was mimicked by the egg strapped onto his back and between waiting like Sgileas had ordered.

“Sgileas said-” Tivon began, but Derwen made a ‘tut’ing noise and shook his head.

“Overthinking again. Trust yourself first and foremost.”

“Why?” Tivon finally burst out.

“Is it not obvious?” Derwen chuckled and the sound was bells and honey at once, beautiful and rich, making the pattern on Tivon’s bark pulse and a vibrant tingle trickle even into his fingertips. “I thought after what happened it would be the first lesson you learned.”

“I learned to rely on my friends.” Tivon answered and even though he tried to make his voice strong, it missed by a mile.

“Ah, yes.” Derwen glanced at Kas and the look on his face said it all: That he disliked her, that he disapproved of her very presence and that he thought her inferior, “Your ‘ _friends’_ have made you weak.”

“How dare you!” Kas gasped out and brought herself to full height, staring Derwen down even though he was taller than her. “When you tore him apart _we_ were the ones who built him back up!”

“Oh?” Derwen made and raised his eyebrows, “Then tell me, Tivon,” Derwen tilted his head, voice dropping low, “Did you discover your new powers when you were with your friends, or when you were alone? Did you discover that you could control the land while bound to an image of the past, projected by your _friends_ who held on to who you used to be, or was it when you were Soundless?”

Tivon gaped at that, throat dry. He and Kas exchanged a glance filled with sudden guilt and shame, but that was all the answer Derwen seemed to require.

“I am right, because unlike your _friends_ , I bothered to see your potential, in both high and low places. Because _I_ know you better than they ever will.”

Tivon felt as if someone had squeezed him into a tight spot, taken his air and was gripping his throat. _Constricted, captured, trapped._

Because Derwen was _right_.

Tivon had discovered all that he used now when he’d been alone. While he had been Soundless he’d discovered the path of the Druid, learning of its powers and strengths, and the Avatar State had triggered when he’d been faced with the Shadow of the Dragon with Sgileas _there_ , but the Necromancer had not even _tried_ to ask for his help. He had discovered it all by himself.

All that Tivon had learned about himself, the growth in his power, it had all been when he’d _not_ been with his friends.

 _By the Pale Tree_ , he felt dizzy thinking that there might be truth to Derwen’s words, that his friends…

Were slowing him down? Keeping him in place? Inhibiting him? Clinging to a version of him that he simply _wasn’t_?

“Tivon,” Kas said and from her worried eyes he knew that his confusion and conflict must show on his face. “Don’t let him get to your head. He’s manipulating you.”

Tivon didn’t want to deal with this, did not want to dwell on the words. “Let’s go.” He murmured and brushed past both of them, eyes pointedly directed toward the floor.

Derwen smirked at Kas and made a polite, bowing gesture for her to follow Tivon first and she sniply did, hair whisking over her shoulder as she went.

When Derwen made to follow her a cool breeze drifted by and it was Jory who stood beside him, her dark eyes trapping him in place. “We are watching you.” She reminded him coolly and the air around her hissed, her Death Shroud barely visible as a splay of languid, dark tangles atop her robe.

“I would be terribly offended if you weren’t.” Derwen said cheerfully and followed Tivon while humming a tune.

 

***

 

“This does little to assert your stance.” Sgileas noticed, his figure in the distance still, and Tivon gulped down the anxiety that filled his belly at the thought of what kind of outrage Sgileas would have when the Necromancer noticed him here.

He made his way down the steps slowly and noticed that various other Exalted had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, pillars of stone bordering the advance that graced them with a top view over the city of Tarir.

The Exalted noticed him first and when their gazes lingered on him, Sgileas turned around mid-sentence to follow their gaze.

“What,” Sgileas hissed out, eyebrows furrowing as he approached Tivon looking ready to tear him from limb to limb, “are you doing?”

 _Trust your instincts,_ Derwen’s voice echoed and Tivon gulped and lifted his chin. “We don’t have time to argue with them, Sgileas.” Tivon murmured softly, lowering his voice in the hopes of keeping this between themselves, not knowing how well the Exalted could hear, “I trust them. Now I need _you_ to trust _me_.”

Sgileas remarked sharply, “Not like I have a choice.” And he turned away briskly toward where the Exalted Ruka stood. “The negotiations are out of my hands. It appears your “Bearer” is willing to trust you.”

Ruka seemed to smile mirthfully and floated gently toward them with ease and grace, easing some tension from Tivon’s shoulders. “Welcome to Tarir, egg-bearer.” Ruka greeted softly. “The Commander worried for the egg’s and your safety. Rightfully so, but let us ease your worries and burden.”

Another Exalted that looked brighter and more glamorous than the rest came forward, just as graceful and fluid as Ruka had, emitting an aura of tranquility and ease. “I am the Luminate.” The Exalted greeted with a bow of its head and Tivon bowed his in return. “You are a most honored guest. We have waited so long for your arrival. This city and we Exalted were created to protect the whole of Glint’s legacy, including the egg.”

“So Ruka said,” Tivon nodded, “I mean to confront Mordremoth, but Mordremoth wants the egg. I'm not about to bring those two together. I need to make sure the egg is totally secure before I move on Mordremoth.”

“Let us help you.” Ruka bowed his head. “We are the egg's sworn protectors, and Tarir is where it is meant to be.”

“I’d like to know more about the Exalted and your city before I make that decision.” Tivon said steadfast, surprising himself _and_ his friends with the firmness in his voice. He felt...confident, empowered, as if his small act of defiance and _listening_ to his instincts had suddenly given him faith in not only _himself,_ but his task as well.

“Of course.” Ruka acquiesced and began to explain in a calm manner. “Our patron is Glint, the dragon prophet. She loved sentient beings and dedicated her life to protecting them. She used her vast magic and her prophetic gifts to preserve life on Tyria the last time Elder Dragons rose. As a seer, she knew what was to come. She charged her valued attendants, the Forgotten, with preparing for that future.”

“Do you see?” The Luminate asked and with a graceful motion with her arm she gestured toward a stone plate that was wedged upon a small podest at the very tip of the advance, coaxing him to come closer. Tivon approached curiously and saw the letters printed into the stone, time and weather having left their marks upon it. “These runes spell out our charter, our purpose, our sworn duty as handed down by the Forgotten themselves.”

The stone plate read,

_May what I leave behind light the way._

_May those I leave behind nurture what I could not._

_May all who read these words gladly share the burden of my life's work._

_May this be my legacy: a city of hope._

Tivon glanced up toward the Luminate, noticed that the Exalted kept a respectable distance between them, most likely so that he would not be frightened or even anxious in her presence.

 _City of Hope_ , Tivon echoed in his head and let his gaze wander over the city, walls that reached high into the sky, towers that touched the clouds, gilded pylons that brimmed and hummed with magical and ancient energy. The city was built around a single compartment that was bordered by four equally divided quarters. Each quarter lead into a tower that lead upwards toward the different layers and levels on the walls of the city.

Trees adorned not only the sides but grew atop the walls as well, long, lengthy branches curling and stretching toward the sun, offering shade under its glare. Fern crawled up the walls and cradled against the warm, gilded surface, making Tivon realize that this city was many, many years old, and that in all this time there was no corruption of Mordremoth in sight.

Ruka approached beside him. “Centuries ago, the Forgotten magically erected Tarir to hold and nurture the artifacts Glint would leave behind. They also sought out mortals to become Exalted—ageless, enhanced guardians of the city and its contents. We who volunteered and passed the necessary tests were converted into pure energy and encased in golden armor. When all the preparation were complete, we began to go dormant, waiting for our noble duty to begin. Glint...died.” Ruka paused for a moment and Tivon wondered if it was pain that crossed into Ruka’s voice. “Soon after, Tarir began to stir...and we Exalted awoke, mourned, and took up our duty once more.”

“A new portal appeared when you arrived with the egg. Ruka will lead you to it.” The Luminate told him.

“Hold on.” Sgileas ordered and the Exalted turned toward the Necromancer, “Where are you taking him?”

“The egg-chamber.” Ruka explained calmly. “Your friend will be safe.”

“I would like to see to that myself.” Sgileas said sharply.

“No one but the egg-bearer can enter the chamber,” The Luminate explained. “Not even us.”

“Convenient.” Sgileas’ voice was low and the Necromancer seemed less than happy about this development.

“It’s alright.” Tivon said. “I’ll be fine. You can...wait here.”

The Luminate nodded. “No harm will come to the egg-bearer. We give our lives for that promise. You may rest while you wait.”

Sgileas seemed reluctant, shoulders tense and eyes squinted. “Fine.” He snapped. “We wait.”

Tivon smiled. “I won’t be long.” He promised and followed Ruka, signalling for Kota to stay with the others. The Karka made a confused noise, eyes trailing after Tivon while Kas petted him gently.

“It’s fine,” She soothed, “He’ll be back soon.”

 

***

 

It turned out that _soon_ had been a clear overstatement. Even hours later when the sun began to set Tivon had not returned and Sgileas was pacing up and down the advance, boots crunching on the stone plates.

When finally Sgileas could not take it any longer, the nervous trepidation that something had happened crawling up his bark leaving him no minute of rest, he burst out, “What is going on? Why has he not returned?”

“The Forgotten set challenges for all those that are Chosen.” The Luminate answered evenly, the glow of her golden armour more accentuated in the nightfall.

“Challenges?” Sgileas echoed. “You tell us of this _now_?”

“He is safe, I assure you.” The Exalted answered calmly.

“He had better be,” Sgileas growled, not bothering to control his temper and his Shroud as it hissed in anger, “and should he be harmed, I’ll make sure your armour will be nothing but decoration among the cities ashes.”

The threat hung heavily in the air, creating a most unsettling, unceasing shroud of silence. Kas and Jory exchanged a glance as did Rytlock and Canach, and when the Tribune let his eyes flicker toward Sgileas and back Canach tilted his head and contained a groan.

As if resigning himself Canach took a deep breath and interrupted the silence, “Commander?” the secondborn asked and Sgileas turned toward where Canach stood with his arms folded in front of his chest and back leaning against a pillar that stood adjacent to a staircase that lead into a torch-lighted corridor below. “A word.”

“I don’t-” Sgileas was about to argue hotly when Canach squinted his eyes,

“ _Now_.”

The entire party held their breaths, Kas even lifted her hand toward her mouth to hide her gasp and Jory raised her eyebrow at Canach’s sharp tone that disallowed any kind of disobedience, and Sgileas forgot to be angry for a moment. Only a moment. The moment passed, surprise flaring into anger once again.

He grit his teeth, weighing the situation for a few seconds and noticed that he seemed to be the only one nervously pacing, that he was apparently alone in a state of anxiety and anger and frustration, that they were all watching him warily as if they expected him to burst and explode any second.

“Fine.” He grit out reluctantly and stomped after Canach who turned toward the staircase, leading him down below. If the secondborn so much as _tried_ to tell him how to behave, Sgileas was sure he’d flail him on the spot.

To his surprise Canach was silent. The warrior all but walked just a few inches ahead, not turning around toward him, nor did he speak. Sgileas expected Canach to break the silence any moment now, the minutes dragging by like sap oozing from the trunk of a tree, tough and slow, when finally he couldn’t take his own impatience.

“What is it?” Sgileas snapped. “What are we doing?”

“A stroll, Commander.” Canach replied nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing to take _walks_ through an ancient, newly discovered city while Tivon could be murdered by Exalted.

Sgileas came to an abrupt stop. “A _stroll_?” He echoed disbelievingly, not bothering to hide the hiss from this voice, “Do you even know-”

“Yes,” Canach replied, voice equally sharp and the vehemence behind it silenced Sgileas on the spot. “I _know_ . Your temper is out of bounds and since you refuse to sleep, _we_ are taking a stroll.”

“Don’t mother me.” Sgileas snapped, stepping closer to Canach in an attempt to intimidate the warrior, but Canach lifted his chin defiantly and held his ground admirably. It was _infuriating_ . Canach was _infuriating._ “You can’t begin to fathom the extent-”

And once again, Canach had the guts to interrupt, dark onyx eyes squinted in a similar anger fueled by frustration, “ _I_ understand the necessity of sleep where _you_ do not.” Canach interjected sharply, and then, almost in an after-thought he added, _“Commander.”_

Sgileas felt _mocked_. “Don’t you dare-”

“Stop acting like a _child_ .” Canach chided and in that moment, being constantly interrupted, fury and frustration rising, anger boiling toward the point of tipping over, Sgileas _felt_ like a Sapling all over again with little to no control over his emotions.

Beside his anger and frustration however there was a dumbfounded, _stunned_ part of him that _commended_ and _respected_ Canach for not only being _bold_ and speaking his mind, but for being so very _honest._

“You refuse to sleep - don’t even start to interrupt me, we both _know_ I am right,” Canach added in between when Sgileas opened his mouth, “- and it is not only compromising your commanding abilities, but the party’s integrity as well. Your lack of self-regard threatens all of us _and_ our mission.”

Sgileas closed his mouth, swallowing down his anger and the growing incentive to strangle Canach, the both of them engrossed in a kind of staring contest that could kill others on the spot. There was a tense moment of silence in which neither of them moved, not even an inch, both holding steadfast to their ground until Sgileas clenched his jaw and made a ‘tch’ while he turned his head away.

He’d lost this one, he had to admit. Canach was right; his lack of sleep affected his temper. The frustration of being unable to do anything about the situation, about Mordremoth, about _Trahearne_ , the fact that he had let Caithe slip through his fingers - it all added up to haunt him, wearing him down and scraping him raw until nothing but bare emotions remained, riled and stoked into flame by the simplest of sparks.

“Ah, you _do_ see reason.” Canach quipped, but the secondborn’s voice was guarded as if he expected Sgileas to snap back.

Sgileas swallowed the first retort he wanted to make down. “Don’t gloat,” Sgileas warned, voice much less heated, “Nobody likes a boisterous winner.”

“And nobody likes a sore loser.” Canach shot back.

“I’m not-” Sgileas hissed out defensively and Canach interrupted once again, but more softly this time, gaze deep and understanding,

“No,” Canach agreed, “You are not.”

Sgileas held the gaze for a few agonizing seconds, noticing for the first time that in a brutish, hardy and rugged way, the warrior had a stalwart constitution and appeal that was not visible at first glance.

It was the pitiless honesty that impressed Sgileas most. That Canach had the audacity, no, the _guts_ to stand up to him when apparently nobody else would.

It reminded him of Trahearne and his stomach clenched uncomfortably and finally, he tore his eyes away, suddenly feeling drained and abraded. Where his vexation and aggravation had fueled his every action and step he felt only hollow depth answering him and he realized how very much he’d clung to the emotions, how quickly he’d fallen into a spiral that would have been difficult to crawl out from by himself.

Without them his body felt nerveless, exhausted, _drained._ Even now that he had admitted that he was _exhausted_ and that his lack of sleep compromised the entire mission, he did not know what to do.

Canach apparently did. “Rest.” It was a statement, not a question. “WHile we wait, you rest.” Sgileas _hated_ to be ordered around, but refused to let the emotion resurface. “I’ll take the watch.”

Sgileas did not like Canach. Heck, he could barely stand having to talk to him for more than a few seconds.

Yet right here, right now, he couldn’t help but admire and respect the secondborn, even if he shut out the thought as it appeared.

“Fine.” Sgileas agreed reluctantly, “But if you let slip that this conversation ever took place, I’ll flail you on the spot.” He needed to say that out loud to regain some sort of ground.

Canach chuckled lightly at that, either noticing that the threat was empty or disbelieving it, Sgileas could not be sure which. “Of course, _Commander_ ,” Canach teased and gestured for Sgileas to take the lead, “We both would not have it any other way.”

Sgileas did not deign to answer and made his way back quietly, the churn and turmoil of his emotions quenched, not daring to ponder Canach’s words.

 

***

When Sgiles moved past him Canach expected the Shroud to lash out at him, but it had sunken down against Sgileas’ skin, nothing but a dark, moving shadow that looked as if dark clouds passed over the Commander’s body.

Was that a sign of resignation? Was it exhaustion? Canach wasn’t exactly sure. If he was honest he had not wanted to be the one to talk to Sgileas at all - the damned Tribune had all but goaded him. After Sgileas threat they had exchanged glances, and the Tribune’s eyes had said

 _Go talk with him,_ and Canach had tilted his head and given him a disbelieving stare,

_Heck no. I like my head safely on my shoulders, secure and sound._

Rytlock had rolled his eyes. _He won’t actually kill you. He listens to you._

At that Canach would have liked to ignore the warmth in his fingertips at the kind of compliment that was and somehow, deep, deep down he’d known that at least one thing was true: Sgileas would not kill him.

So he had groaned and resigned himself to the task and had found that not only was he very much alive, but the Commander _did_ listen. It was a surprise, for sure, but one Canach had not shown.

When they returned nobody spoke a word, most likely to not reignite Sgileas’ anger and to enjoy the moment of temporary silence and absence of threatening Necromancers pacing with a bad temper.

Sgileas crossed the platform, rounded a pillar and sat down out of sight and when Canach made to take his former place by the wall the damned Tribune gave him a pointed stare that, just as their glances before, spoke more than words.

_Mulch._

Canach sighed and moved across the stone, boots crunching in the dead of night. Kas and Jory glanced after him while Derwen seemed too spaced out to notice anything. The Mesmer was sitting atop the stairs, gaze somewhere in the distance and Canach was glad to leave him in whatever trance had him encumbered.

When he reached the pillar he splayed his fingers against it, dragging them over the cool, even surface as he rounded it. The Commander sat with his back against it, one knee drawn closer toward his chest, the other dangling over the advance over the sickening depth.

The darkness brought out the purple glow across his skin that flowed and pulsed like rivers of magic, the eyes bringing a purple sheen that made them brighter than they ever were at day. The half-bamboos swayed when Sgileas turned his head and the Necromancer glared up at him, ripping Canach from the thoughts that had cruised through his head unbid.

It was most likely better they stayed out of his head, anyhow.

“Commander.”

“You’ve said your piece.” The Commander frowned. “What do you want?”

Yes, well. Canach was not quite sure how to answer that himself, but somehow a certain Tribune seemed to be under the impression that the Necromancer needed a babysitter.

Canach decided to go with that because...well, it was the truth. “Rytlock was under the impression you need company.”

“Well, he was wrong.” Sgileas dead-panned, “I don’t, in fact, _need_ company.”

“Yes.” Canach agreed and sat down anyway, bracing his hands against the ground behind him while his knees dangled over the advance, refusing to look at the Necromancer that sat a few inches beside him. A soft breeze whisked over them and the leaves of Canach’s armour rustled softly while Sgileas robe fluttered, but not a single word was spoken after that.

Canach only stared out into the distance, trying to discern if he should actually engage in some kind of conversation but found it was most likely better to keep quiet. What was that phrase? Silence is golden? And he was not the talkative kind anyhow. Neither of them appreciated useless chatter and gossip - it was time and nerve consuming, two things they both valued dearly.

The Commander tensed when Canach sat down, the wrist that had lain languidly across his knee clenching into a fist and the shoulders drawn in slightly. It was a simple, subtle shift that Canach noticed only from the corner of his eyes but did not address.

There was enough distance between them that either of them could move away easily, but the Necromancer didn’t twitch or move away. For a few, long agonizing minutes the only sound was the distant chatter of Kas and Jory in the background, a noise that Canach could easily go without when Sgileas beside him took an odd breath that sounded like a stifled yawn and turned his head away to hide it.

Canach did not call him out on it. He just stayed silent and waited, surprised by how (even though there was no conversation between them at all) it did not feel _awkward_ nor _forced_. It would most likely be a different tale if he did speak out loud. Whatever fragile peace had settled would most likely break apart.

So when Sgileas finally relaxed, shoulders dropping, wrist and hand relaxing into a languid resting position and his knee wobbled to the side slightly, Canach glanced sideways only briefly.

The Necromancer was staring out into nothingness, gaze fixated on something distant, the flutter of his eyelids indicating how very tired he must be and how straining every second was that he kept them open. Then, after a few seconds of fighting the heavy pull of his eyelids, Sgileas eyes drifted shut with a plodding flitter.

Canach counted slowly in his head and watched as Sgileas’ head leaned gradually and adagio against the pillar for support and tilted sideways, chest moving with each deep, even breath that signaled his state of slumber. Sgileas’ knee tipped to the side, wrist threatening to slip toward the floor and Canach shifted just slightly and lifted his leg quietly yet swiftly from where it had dangled over the gap and placed it just so that Sgileas’ knee didn’t fall, but instead came to lean against his own with a soft jolt.

Sgileas’ wrist slipped down the other side over Necromancer’s thigh where it settled against his abdomen and rested there, moving up and down with each breath that curved his chest and belly.

Canach gulped and took a deep breath, not having noticed that he had held it. He felt a strange satisfaction and pride, and an even greater feeling of _wonder_ that the Commander had actually fallen asleep.

True, Sgileas had fought it. But he had imagined that Sgileas’ pride would win over his clamouring need for sleep and rest, and that the Commander would never, _ever_ allow this, especially not in front of others. It was after all a moment of bare vulnerability, of being extradited and dependant on others to protect him.

Canach understood well why Sgileas had fought. His time alone at Southsun had taught him many, many things concerning his own survival, and he had made many adjustments and sacrifices to ensure it. His appearance being only one and a much more minor thing. One learned quickly that vanity was of absolute no importance.

The others in the distance had grown quiet also, which made the soft, even breaths that hushed from Sgileas’ mouth all the louder and Canach couldn’t help but watch the Commander's sleeping form blatantly.

Sleeping the Commander looked...almost normal. Like any normal sylvari, with the pulse of his pattern glowing in tandem with his breaths, body languorous and relaxed. The Shroud had almost disappeared, only faint flails of dark that weaved into the air as if shifting in a gentle breeze. The face was for once relaxed, lips parted only slightly, eyebrows relaxed from their usually drawn in or squinted position.

Canach turned his head away, not bothering to wonder why his mouth and throat felt dry, or why his own fingers twitched nervously. He only wished that the sun would rise soon.

 

***

 

Tivon stepped through the last portal into a chamber, blinking against the sudden, bright light. He’d bested the tests of strength, wit and leadership. He’d solved the puzzle in a labyrinth, fought various foes and dragon minions and even lead others to fight against Mordrem Abominations while having been transformed into a rabbit.

To say that he was exhausted and confused was a clear understatement. When finally the egg was back in his hands he gave a relieved sigh, holding it carefully in between his palms, its white glow pulsing softly once his bark touched the warm surface.

For a moment he wondered if the egg could sense his presence and his delight at having found it again after it had been ripped from him by some sort of magic, and if perhaps it was just as exhilarated to see him as he was to feel it underneath his fingers.

“Alright,” Tivon crooned and smiled amiably, “Time to bring you someplace safe.”

The egg pulsed in his hand as if in answer and Tivon chuckled, cradling it in one arm close to his chest as he stepped forward.

Before him was a large, round chamber that lifted high over his head, the construction towering around him. Everything glittered golden, intricate designs painted against the wall, and a small staircase lead down a path that was smooth and flat, crossing from where he stood over a small ditch filled with water that was so clear Tivon could see the bottom.

The water was still, the air was silent. His steps, even though they were silent thanks to the soles of his feet barely making a noise, still echoed around the chamber as did his breath.

The water surrounded a large, round platform that was adorned by three large pillar-like constructs that angled slightly to the side and were shaped like wings, various colours shining from an undefinable light source through the coloured window glass.

And amidst that….

Tivon took the steps with reverie and awe, noticing how very spacious and magnificent this place was, and how very fitting for the significance of the egg.

There was one podest amidst it all, standing proud, golden, and empty, and Tivon’s hand began to shake as he approached and he calmed his nerves with a deep inhale.

The egg hummed in his arm and Tivon smiled down at it before he extended his arms, the egg held firmly and carefully in his fingers as he stretched toward the podest. He could feel the sparkle and vibrant ambient magic in the air, could _taste_ it upon his tongue and then, ever so slowly, he allowed the egg to slip gingerly from his fingers.

It hovered for a moment, still and dormant, before a surge of white, beaming magic shot from it toward the top of the chamber, and Tivon had to lift his hand to cover his eyes from the blinding light.

It felt warm like sunlight and tasted of sun-kissed berries, the magic permeating the air in a sheen and veil of glittering stardust, the whole chamber coming to life with a thrum that went through the stone and pillars alike.

Slowly Tivon dared to lift his eyes, his hand trailing toward the bud on his neck and his fingers tangled around it unconsciously, needing something to hold on to. He gaped at the egg for a moment, he felt the vivacious and effervescent flow of power floating and pervading not only air, but _him_ as well and then-

Something pulled him, pulled at his spirit and nausea filled his insides, he was tugged away, consciousness bleeding out into the open and he gasped, but barely heard it. There was darkness before his eyes, cold and grey and slowly, accentuated against a dim glow of white light he saw the egg, blackened like an extinguished ember.

There was a cracking noise and the egg sprouted roots, darkened and tangling, stretching out toward the sides in parasitic intention, growing larger and twisted, _corrupted_ until the vision tore away, pulling and pulling _and pulling_ him through coils of tangles and thicket, thorn and vines until from the darkness that entwined him a face emerged which he recognized.

It was Zojja, her face pale as marble, her eyes and mouth agape in a scream of terror that echoed loudly around him as if it had long since passed, and her form was engulfed by thornes leaves with sharp teeth, encumbering her and swallowing her whole.

The was a noise like chortling laughter that could be none other than Mordremoth and Tivon wanted it to stop, to tear himself away, but the vision continued, swaying toward Logan who appeared to be trapped in a cocoon, upper body mirrored as if there were two of him. Slowly the two images stretched apart from one another, Logan and his doppelganger torn apart, tearing and _ripping_ and _by the Pale Tree_ , Tivon could hear Logan _scream_.

The image drifted, revealing more of Logan’s that were trapped in cocoons, more of them being ripped apart, more being -

The image vanished into a blur of crystals and right in font, face white and ashen, was Trahearne. Just his face, shown in only the once instant before something ripped the face apart right from the middle and Tivon could hear Trahearne groan in pain, scream in _agony_ as he was wrenched apart, creating two of him, then four, then eight...and more and more and _more_ until Tivon could see no end, the various figures blurring in their immense number.

In the distance a lighter sky appeared with the silhouette of a city resting against a white canvas and from where Tivon stood a cloud of darkness washed everything into a sea of dark, swallowing everything whole.

 _No_ , Tivon thought and wanted to close his eyes against the vision. He stumbled away and once he blinked he was back in the golden chamber that had lost all of its magnificence, the egg resting innocently atop the podest and Tivon found himself on the ground, panting heavy, harsh breaths, both his hands planted tightly against the golden floor.

“What…” He brought out and blinked up at the egg in confusion. “What was that?” He asked into the silence of the chamber and found that his arms and legs were shaking. He gulped and sat up, drawing his knees closer and tried to keep his knees steady, his palms resting against his thighs when he noticed something fluttering softly from his hand toward the ground in a flush of pink.

Tivon glanced at it and he instantly stilled when he realized what it was.

“Hum.” A voice behind him made and he whirled around, suddenly breathless. Derwen craned his neck to inspect the entirety of the chamber, in his eyes a sort of appreciation for the radiant and lavish chamber. “Splendiferous design.” Derwen murmured before he finally lowered his gaze. “That, however, does not excuse their sloppy security.”

 

***

 

“How-” Tivon gaped and scrambled toward his feet, nearly tumbling over once again in the rush of nerves, “How did you get in? I thought only I could-”

“I did too.” Derwen shrugged. “You calling me here must have been _permission granted_ . If so, these spells are more advanced than I gave them credit for.” Derwen had felt the all-to familiar pull of the spell - it did not _force_ him here, he was always free to go where he wished, but in all the time that Tivon had _kept_ the pendant, not _once_ had he pulled a petal from it.

It was needless to say that Derwen had been beyond _curious_ to find out why that was, and even more so why he had done so now. Seeing that Tivon had stumbled ( _Cute,_ Derwen thought) and pulled a petal by accident was somewhat...anticlimatic.

“You must leave.” Tivon brought out with a stagger in his voice. “I didn’t mean to…” Tivon trailed off, but Derwen understood.

_I did not mean to summon you here._

The Mesmer’s smile was cat-like when he teased Tivon while feigning ignorance, “You didn’t mean to…?” Derwen coaxed.

“To pull-” Tivon yapped, “The pendant, I mean, _the bud_ , I-”

Derwen chuckled mirthfully at Tivon’s stutters. He had not changed much, had he? So easily flustered and ruffled. He moved around the podest on which the egg rested, whitedark eyes mustering it with curiosity.

This right here was... _great_ . There were ~~~~no better words that came into Derwen’s head other than that. The egg was of grave importance, even if it was not yet clear why and what it did. The fact that the scion inside had _chosen_ Tivon was indication enough that the scion was alive, and that perhaps through care it would hatch.

“Glint’s scion.” The Mesmer murmured thoughtfully. “Your Wyld Hunt.”

Wylde Hunts were a curious thing. Visions that were not always quite so clear to decipher as it had been for Tivon, but now that there was little to no doubt left, it was easy to see why it was important...and why _Tivon_ had been tasked with it.

When Derwen lifted his gaze he saw that Tivon still stood as if he expected Derwen to jump him any second now (Which was rediciolous, even though there was a certain appeal to tease Tivon just a little).

“It...yeah.” Tivon brought out and approached carefully, the soles of his feet slapping only softly against the flat, even surface before he stopped in front of the egg, opposite to where Derwen stood.

“Tell me of your journey.” Derwen bid him, and the surprise on Tivon’s face...Derwen had to hold back his laughter. Instead he made a wide gesture with his arm. “I see that much has happened.”

“Ah.” Tivon made “After... _The Breachmaker_ ,” Tivon began, still not meeting Derwen’s eyes even though he could now feel the Mesmer’s gaze on him, “Actually, why do you want to know?”

“Why do any of us ever want to know anything?” Derwen smiled enigmatically.

Tivon averted his eyes. “You are answering a question with a question. Again.”

Derwen chuckled. “You got me.” He craned his neck, eyes trailing over the chamber’s interior and over the pillars. There was little he knew of what had happened to Tivon after _The Breachmaker,_ but somewhere along the line Tivon must have been with the Soundless, somehow met his friends because the Soundless would not allow any other than sylvari in their midst and been introduced to his new powers. Not only had Tivon managed to _survive,_ but he had grown from the experience without once faltering to Nightmare. It was somewhat admirable, a kind of strength that Derwen could easily appreciate - and one he had gravely underestimated. “What do you know of the Nightmare?”

“It is…” Tivon hesitated. “It is evil. Those of the Court flee the Dreams guidance in search for freedom, forcing their beliefs on others through torture and pain.”

Tivon did not say it, but Derwen heard the _As you did_ loud and clear.

“That is what many make it out to be, yes,” Derwen agreed. “But cruelty is a by-product, not its essence. Most shed their conscience and pudency and let their emotions, urges and impulses guide their actions because there is nobody to supervise their endeavours and administer a consequence. That is the freedom that the Nightmare seeks - to be free of any indoctrination of Ventari’s tablet and the constrictions of the Dream.”

“That is no excuse,” Tivon frowned, “The Soundless are the very same, seeking to free themselves from the Dream’s influence, but they do not harm anyone.”

“That is because they are not free.” Derwen answered evenly. “They shackle their emotions and let their mind rule. It is another form of prison.”  He saw recognition flash through Tivon’s complexion. “I see you know that too.”

Tivon averted his eyes once again and gulped. “I did not want to be...apathetic.”

“You wish to feel, to express yourself.” Derwen tilted his head and smiled warmly. “That is not something you need to be ashamed of.”

“What are we doing?” Tivon brought out with a hint of frustration in his voice and gestured between himself and Derwen.

“I did not plan to be _here_ , if that is what you are wondering.” Derwen reminded Tivon.

“I told you,” Tivon murmured, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Yes, I can see that.” Derwen frowned. “What happened?”

Tivon hesitated once again for a moment before he sighed, his eyes looking anywhere but at Derwen. In the few seconds of silence Derwen allowed his gaze to wander over Tivon’s form freely. The changes were stark and blatant; where Tivon’s skin had been light, a birch-colour it was now the colour of ash, the ferns atop his head must have either wilted or fallen off because gnarled branches had replaced them that curled at the back of Tivon’s neck. Around his neck, resting against his clavicle rested the pendant still, and sylvari armour covered his bark and skin, but his feet were, just as Derwen remembered, naked still.

Tivon was slender and...slightly taller? Derwen remembered him being smaller. The shoulders had broadened somewhat, the legs still strong and lean, and he did not look quite as famished as he had back then.

All in all, an improvement in Derwen’s books.

“I think the egg showed me a vision.” Tivon began slowly and let his hand hover tentatively over the soft sheen that surrounded the egg in a gilded glow. “It showed me Destiny’s Edge and Trahearne captured by Mordremoth, being...duplicated? I am not sure. They were...in great pain.”

Derwen nodded, shirking the impulse to step closer to Tivon because the Druid seemed startled enough as it was by his presence alone. “What do you believe it means?”

“That Mordremoth is creating an army....and that if we do not hurry, we will be too late.”

“Then perhaps we should dally no longer.” Derwen chirped with a smile and lifted his hand to create a portal, but to his surprise Tivon interrupted him.

“Derwen, you…” Tivon took a deep breath and seemed to think better of it. “No, forget I said anything.”

“Now you’ve got me curious.” Derwen smiled crookedly. Tivon shifted uncomfortable and Derwen waited patiently, never once taking his eyes off of Tivon.

“Why did you…” Tivon licked his lips. “At the Breachmaker. Why did you do that?”

Derwen lowered his hand, preparing for a more lengthy explanation. “There are things that I can not tell you about me. Things that pervade the living world that are beyond your and my own understanding. What I can tell you however is that when you rescued me from the Nightmare Court, I felt indebted, which is why I helped you.”

“I...rescued you?”

“I stole the Bifrost, remember?” Derwen let his hand glide through the air, a translucent shimmer alluding to the fact the staff was there, easily summoned if the Mesmer wished. “People are not happy when you steal their possessions.”

“And then...why?”

“Because your spirit is like a feast for Nightmare. At first I planned to be on my way, but you were... _too good_ to be true.” Derwen smirked inwardly when Tivon blushed at that and glanced away. “I saw all that you could be once ripped from the Dreams expectations and indoctrinations, and decided to convert you to Nightmare so that you would be free.”

“You...you thought you were _helping_ me?”

Derwen shook his head. “I knew very well that ripping you from your world would involve a great deal of anguish and transformation. I had been waiting for an opportunity like that, to transform the _perfect_ soul to Nightmare - imagine what you _could_ be with a mind that is free of limitations and fear of consequence?” Derwen felt a tingle at the image. A Tivon that was powerful, dark, under no obligation to anyone, one that would and _could_ do anything to make Tyria the place it was meant to be. He would have been similar as he had when he was Soundless: Apathetic, cold, calculating, and perhaps with a greater touch of emotion and _drive_ that would fuel his desire to bring change upon the world. Derwen did not doubt, not even for a single second, that if his plan had worked, Tivon would have risen in the ranks of Nightmare with breathtaking efficiency and he and Derwen could-

That part had not worked out as he had thought at all.

“I would have helped you in the only way that I know. I would have freed you from the Pale Tree’s crushing expectations and given you the freedom that you deserve - and perhaps then you would have stayed.”

“Stayed?” Tivon echoed and Derwen smiled.

“The reason I wanted to convert you was not simply because I am _Nightmare Court._ I do not convert people for _fun_ .” At that Derwen rolled his eyes. “No, my motivation was more than that. I wanted you to be with me, and to give you the freedom to do so. The Dream teaches that you are not allowed to love one that has embraced the Nightmare. Have you never wondered why that is? Why the Firstborn plead with the young to not fall to Nightmare, and not fall for a Courtier? It is simple: You are not to see the other choices, you are not allowed to give in to your heart’s desire. You are to be disciplined and diligent and obedient. Is that not why you chose to be Soundless? Because you could not help _but_ to love?”

Tivon looked positively stricken and rooted on the spot and even as Derwen drew closer, just the one step because he knew that if he came too close, Tivon would bolt and stagger backwards in fear, Tivon only flinched but did not back away.

“I-” Tivon brought out and he looked so terribly conflicted that Derwen felt that same burning desire he had felt all that time ago. He wanted to rip the Dream into pieces, he wanted for it to stop _torturing_ and _tearing_ at Tivon’s thoughts, he wanted for Tivon to be _free_.

Derwen took another step. He looked at Tivon and lifted his hands and halted them mid-air, not daring to reach out, to touch Tivon as he wanted, and Tivon twitched again and shrunk away slightly.

“You must understand that I needed to hurt you,” Derwen whispered, the look of those wide, round, _innocent_ green eyes full of confusion and indecision wringing and quenching his insides. “And that I wished to have other choices than to harm the one I love.”

Tivon looked faint, eyes wide and he took a step back and stumbled over his own feet clumsily. Derwen reached out, fingers grasping around his bicep and noticed how warm and soft Tivon’s skin was.

“You-” Tivon brought out chockingly, “You-”

Derwen held his arm still, his own fingers feeling suddenly nerveless and trembling and he gripped a tad harder. “Yes.” Derwen whispered, trying to lock eyes with Tivon again but the Druid refused to look up at him, refused to lift his head. Tivon was shaking, arms and legs trembling as Derwen continued because no matter how he had planned for this to go - not matter how long he had thought of how to get closer to Tivon and how to take him back, _this,_ being quite so open and to leave himself vulnerable had _not_ been Derwen’s intention. All of that however mattered little now. It was all or nothing. “I _love_ you.”

Tivon choked on a sob and Derwen had no choice but to watch _again_ as Tivon seemed to fall apart.  “I’m not-” Tivon brought out, “I’ll never be...Nightmare.”

“And why should that stop us?” Derwen asked in a hush. “I am Nightmare and you are Dream. So what? The world is _filled_ with opposites that could never be without the other. We are entwined, you and I. Just as the sun and the moon, ebb and flow, night and day, dark and light.”

“I need-” Tivon gasped for breath, the words digging in more sharply than any blade or thorn ever could. “I need to-”

Derwen, despite the fiery uproar inside him that ordered him not to, let Tivon go and took a step back. It was no lie when he had said he _knew_ Tivon better than anyone else did. He knew what Tivon intended to say without him uttering a single word.

Tivon gasped for air, fighting the tears that threatened to flow over his cheeks, his one hand clenched tight, _tight, tight_ over his chest.

Derwen watched him for a moment longer, knowing fully well that he had said all that he could and that there was nothing he could do now. With a tentative raise of his hand he grasped the staff and felt it’s power thrum over his fingertips similar to the electricity and warmth he had felt when he had touched Tivon and he slowly turned away, giving Tivon more space, time, _air._

After a couple of steps he lifted his hand, thought of the advance where the rest of the party most likely still rested and wove the portal from his thoughts, the purple ring appearing beneath his feet. When he looked over his shoulder Tivon had folded his arms in front of his chest, fingers clenching around his arms in an empty hug, face turned away.

Derwen hesitated for a moment before he bit his lower lip and then spoke, “I suffer as you do.” He murmured and Tivon glanced up at him, eyes glittering with tears. “It is fate that plays with us, but I will wait for you.”

With that Derwen stepped through the portal, appearing below a pair of steps that was out of sight of the party and without his consent he staggered and leaned against the wall for support, taking a deep breath.

No, no, he would not stagger from this. Even if he had been more open than he had intended, he had been truthful. Every word had been real.  

He glanced upward and noticed that Vail was staring down at him with dark, squinted eyes, claws drawn in tightly against the jut of stone. Derwen held the raven’s gaze and wondered how much the Raven knew.

 

***

All. Vail knew all. Is was not the mere sight from his hawk-like eyes, it was not the mere sound and his sharp hearing, it was much, _much_ more.

Vail was not solely a raven, not solely a pet.

No, Vail was Tivon’s companion and through a connection that every Ranger shared with their companions, Vail could see and feel all that Tivon could see and feel. Their bond was not quite as strong and developed due to Tivon’s distracted mind, but Vail was glad for that. The stronger the bond was, the more _bound_ the companion and ranger were and Vail liked the freedom this leeway of their bond endorsed him.

What he did _not like_ was Derwen’s meddling. True enough, Derwen’s feelings were _real,_ but it was not worth any of the pain Derwen inflicted on Tivon, and the Mesmer was more trouble than he was worth.

Plus, now that Tivon’s heart was throbbing around the thorn Derwen had left there, Braham had no place in it.

Vail wanted to pick Derwens eyes out, one by one, with beak and claw and _all_ , but instead he just glared the Mesmer down, gave an affronted caw and fluttered off into the sky. Dark eyes wandered over the plane beneath, blurs of darkened gold that were nothing but grey in the dark of night, wondering how far below Tivon was, and when he would possibly resurface.

He could feel Tivon’s confliction, the emotions running wild. He could feel Tivon sinking onto the ground, knees drawn closer toward his chest, body quivering and....

Perhaps he should turn around and pick out Derwen’s eyes after all. Tivon did have some infatuation with them and they would pose a great present.

That, however, would have to wait.

Kota, the most clumsy four-legged shelled creature that Vail knew, gave a chirp from beneath that sounded confused and questioning. Vail searched with his eyes for a moment, the cool night air ruffling his feathers in a most soothing way before he spotted the small Karka after rounding back toward where the others rested and slept.

A quick glance toward the side offered view of Canach and the Commander near the pillar, still neatly hidden from view by the others, but there was little that could be hidden from Vail. As a matter of fact he liked the Commander very much, his apathetic and calculated demeanour that was much more like his own - but he would never trade Tivon’s bond for anything else.

Tivon had been the very first thing he had seen when he had hatched, young and joyous and innocent, and Tivon had been caring and loving in a way that even Vail could find no fault. The bond only strengthened the kind of innermost love that Vail had for Tivon, and he would do what he could to keep Tivon from harm - if only Tivon _listened_.

But no, Tivon was stupid, naive, yes, moronic _most days_ , fueling Vail’s frustration until it mounted to days such as now where he wanted to peck Derwen and tear one leaf at a time from his head.

Kota chirped happily when Vail landed atop of him and since he was annoyed, Vail pecked Kota’s shell instead, making a tapping noise as he did. It was just a small action to vent off some frustration because Kota’s shell could easily take it, even if the Karka gave another confused noise.

The Karka was a well-fitted companion for Tivon. Just as stupid, just as naive and just as clumsy.

“Hey, hey.” Kas chuckled and rubbed her sleep-heavy eyes. “Vail, leave Kota alone.”

 _Hmpf._ Vail soared back into the sky. At least his thirst for sylvari eyes had somewhat died down.

 

***

 

Kota didn’t understand Vail. Not even a little bit. One might have assumed they were boh companions to the same ranger and somehow understood one another without available speech through some kind of telepathy, but nope.

Vail could be calm, just staring and glaring in his usual manner and the next second flutter away, annoyed or bored, leaving Kota to protect Tivon by himself.

Not that he minded, he could do that just fine! Just today he had proven that even when Tivon stormed ahead he could easily keep up - with a little tumbling and roll-down-the-hill involved - but he’d managed!

So he watched after Vail wondering when Tivon would return, and when Frostbite would be back. He and the devourer got along famously. Kota wondered if it was because they both had shells.

Either way, Frostbite was _fun_. Much unlike Vail, anyhow. And Tivon liked Frostbite too, and Kota liked Rox, and Rox liked Braham and Tivon liked Braham and Braham liked Tivon and -

Right, so, when were they coming back?

Tivon was so busy with the egg. Something about it was real important Kota could tell, but Kota did not understand why he could not have stayed with Frostbite and Rox, why Tivon had decided to come here instead.

It had made him so miserable to do that.

 _“When I see him I’ll cheer him up.”_ , Kota thought excitedly and skittered along the edge. “ _I learned this new barrel-roll he’ll love.”_


	59. Strange Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good day!  
> Alright, so I have to apologize whole-heartedly that I did not upload as I said I would on Wednesday...Things came up and time is short. I'm really, really sorry.  
> This chapter we have more views, more insights, and Braham returns. Oh, and some more Trahearne being simply awesome.  
> So...yeah.  
> Go have fun? :D

They were moving. For how many days Trahearne could not say. The blurred lines of the sky and the shadows and darkness drawn from the canopy over their heads offered too little indication of daylight and nighttime. The jungle was growing thicker, an enormous power wafting into the air and weaving into every stone, tree and leaf, a power that was of the same signature as the heavy boulder that rested upon Trahearne’s mind. 

The Caravan stopped only ever once in a while to pick up new prisoners, but barely anyone dared to talk more than in a hushed voice, too afraid their voices would carry.

It was a quiet, anxious few days, and Trahearne stumbled forward when a Mordrem poked a spear into his back, urging him forward. He glanced over his shoulder only briefly toward Logan and Zojja and saw that the both of them were in a similar state - too well guarded, too well protected to speak to one another or to move even a few inches without bumping into a Mordrem Guard - because Mordremoth feared them.

Destiny’s Edge for a very obvious reason: they had once before defied and fought an Elder dragon, and it was for that reason that Trahearne assumed Mordremoth had issued for Eir to be separated from them a few days ago. They had left her behind in another camp and had not seen or heard anything from her since. Not that they had heard from anyone, be it Sgileas, Laranthir or any of the other Commanders of the Pact. 

That, however, was not all. Mordremoth feared  _ him _ as well. Why that was Trahearne could not say or discern. It was his strength perhaps, or his vast knowledge of hidden powers and forgotten rites. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the Pact Marshal and invoked a hope and fighting spirit in all those that saw him alive still, a leader to be reckoned with, or perhaps it was simply because he was  _ first _ , and as the first and the oldest of the sylvari, Trahearne wielded his experiences with dignity and used it with ingenuity. 

The kind of stare that Mordremoth planted on him was scrutinizing and...intrigued. Capricious at times, and most certainly dissatisfied with Trahearne’s constant resistance. However much Mordremoth whispered, no matter the lies it sprouted, Trahearne closed his ears and his mind to the festering words, and he could feel it through the churning of the earth how agitated the Elder Dragon was. 

Trahearne did not know what it was that Mordremoth had planned with them. Sylvari were minions to the Elder Dragon, yes, but what of the humans, the norn, the asura and the charr? Why was the prison caravan filled with all races, and what did Mordremoth have planned for them? 

Something final, that was all Trahearne could be certain of. With each step that brought them deeper into the jungle, so they stepped toward their foreboding end edging closer and closer, a guillotine that would and could drop at any moment. Trahearne was disillusioned concerning his fate. Mordremoth had no use for renegades or usurpers or rebels. They would either choose to serve willing, or perish and rise as a dragon’s minion. 

What little choice it was, Trahearne would not succumb to the Dragon’s will. The Elder Dragon would have to take his life first. 

Trahearne glanced around. There were many Pact members with them. It was in the very nature of the organisation such as The Pact that it was large with many members of differents ages, gender, and races, and even more obvious than that Trahearne could not hope to know them all.

He recognized a few faces and even though their spirits lightened up when they saw him, he could see that the defeat had taken its toll on them. Even though his strength dwindled, he managed an encouraging nod whenever he could. 

Rumours were whispered among the prison caravan that the Pact was rallying, that forces were slowly pushing into the jungle and mounting a force against the Elder Dragon despite the defeat and it was such a message that could so much more than any nod or smile Trahearne managed.

The rumour gave them  _ hope _ .

“Move.” A Mordrem growled behind them when a whisper’s agent dropped to her knees, and Trahearne recognized her. Her name was Lieutenant Morrsion and it was clear from the rash, heavy breathing and the tremble of her legs that something was ailing her. “Move!” The Mordrem cried again and lifted a weapon in threat and warning.

Trahearne glanced toward Zojja and Logan and the both of them gave him one firm nod. Despite the absence of their weapons, there was nothing to be done against the sheer magical force that lay innate in all three of them. 

The sizzle and cracking of the air announced the spell just the fraction of a second before it was cast, but it was not enough of a warning. The air ignited and exploded, electricity discharged into the ground in fiery, forked lightning strikes that dishevelled the parched earth. 

Cries of fear and surprise erupted from the prisoners and the Mordrem turned in wonder and confusion to where the sound had come from, and many things happened at once. 

Trahearne stepped back, leaning sideways to not get impaled and gripped the spear with his hand. With a twirl of his body he not only dislodged the Mordrem’s grip on the weapon, but also shoved the body aside toward the ground. As Trahearne gyrated where he stood he twirled the spear over his head and plunged the tip deep into the Mordrem’s chest even before the creature had properly landed. 

An eruption of blue light blasted from where Logan stood, a rush of air rustling through the leaves atop Trahearne’s head and he saw only from the corner of his eyes as the Mordrem guards were pushed off their feet into the air, scattering away to the sides a couple of meters away.

“Lieutenant, gather the survivors and  _ go! _ ” Trahearne ordered and the woman immediately stood on her feet, wobbly and shaking as they were. She looked startled just as much as the rest, and she opened her mouth to argue, but they  _ had no time _ . “ _ Now!” _

The sheer fierceness of his voice made her reel. “Yes Marshal!” She turned around and began to make a run for the trees, her arm making a wide beckoning motion. “With me!”

Trahearne, Zojja and Logan stood side by side, watching as the others slowly disappeared into the tangle of vines. Behind them the Mordrem guards rose to their feet with growls and creaking noises, bark and vines crunching with every movement. The sound of footsteps was still close,  _ too  _ close.

“You can still go.” Zojja said and she cracked her fingers, small electric discharges flowing over her magitech savant armour, “We’ve got your back.”

He could. He could easily explain that his position as Pact Marshal would be a rallying cry unlike any other, that the Pact would recover easily and that he would mount a force to rescue them and bring down Mordremoth, but…

That simply was not him. 

“Marshal!” A voice called and Trahearne turned back around toward a Norn magister whose robe was covered in dirt and stains, long sleeves ripped and the hem of his robe jagged. “Marshal, you must escape!”

The Mordrem Guard moved and Logan charged forward with a cry, blocking the first strike with only his wrist guard and punched the Mordrem with all the force he could muster. A bolt of lightning illuminated his features when it blasted just inches from his face and electrocuted the Mordrem on the spot. 

“Move!” Trahearne ordered, more harshly this time, and he turned to glance if his order had been followed or not, and found that the Magister stood rooted on the spot. The norn seemed struck by indecision and a few others of the Pact had halted and hesitated as well, deciding whether to help and stay or to flee and fight another day.

Trahearne took that decision from them. With a grim expression he raised his hand into the air and the ground rumbled and churned, and with a crunching and exploding noise the ground broke open, revealing a wall of bone that rose high into the air like bleached teeth, keeping the Pact members firmly on the side of safety. 

“Leave, now!” Trahearne yelled. 

The Norn looked... _ stricken  _ and despondent and Trahearne had to turn away, the Mordrem Guards approaching far too quickly.

Despite the fact that he could easily forego his lineaments and the principles he valued in order to escape it was only inherently a sign of strength that even when faced with certain capture and even death, he held on strongly to that which he valued most. 

Spirit. 

The spirit of the Pact was a thing that transcended any horrors that could befall him, it would survive and rise above that which had brought it low, and above all else: It was of no importance if he was there to reinforce and hearten it. His presence was no requirement for its existence. His spirit was aligned with that of the Pact, and he would do anything if it meant that they succeeded. 

If the spirit survived, that was more than enough. 

Logan gave a cry when a Mordrem struck the shaft of a spear into the hollow of his knees and was brought low and Zojja screeched when she was pushed toward the ground harshly. She struggled and kicked wildly and Trahearne lifted his hand, his Shroud hissing high-pitched from his shoulders, arms of darkness lashing out toward where the Mordrem had overpowered the two. 

He barely had time to cast a simple spell when an arrow struck him through his shoulder and he gasped, spell dying on the tip of his tongue. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed from where the arrowhead stuck beneath his bark and he stumbled backwards, lifting his eyes toward where the Mordrem Guards approached like vultures circling a dying animal.

His vision shifted and Trahearne blinked in confusion, the strength in his legs dwindling and his knees wobbled before he succumbed and braced his body against the fall, barely catching himself on all fours. The crunching steps of the Mordrem in front of him seemed infinitely louder and Trahearne realized why his senses seemed quite so off, and why his surroundings began to blur.

“Lower the wall.” The Mordrem ordered and Trahearne tried to catch his breath, the poison slowly paralyzing his insides. 

“Never.” Trahearne gasped out, every breath dragged and heaved out. He struggled for a moment longer, his limbs quivering under the strain before he had to close his eyes to concentrate. His magic slipped slowly from his fingers as if he tried to catch air and the sound of the bone wall breaking down was only a hollow echo before his entire world darkened once again.

***

 

Sgileas woke with a start, body throbbing with a sickening heat like that of a fever, the image of his nightmare fading into his subconscious to resurface whenever his mind was unguarded. In his Nightmares he would find Trahearne, changed into a mindless Mordrem, beautiful yellow eyes contorted into a river of red.

His breath came in harsh pants and he gulped in a lungful of air before the unsettling feeling ebbed away.

He stared ahead for a few moments longer into the shadows and the darkness of the night before he remembered where he was and when he glanced sideways he saw Canach staring at him, face perfectly guarded and showing not even one trail of thought.

Sgileas wanted to bolt to his feet to escape any kind of words that Canach surely was to utter, any words filled with  _ pity  _ no doubt, but Canach’s words made him halt before he had distributed enough strength into his legs to push himself to his feet.

“Don’t.”

It was just the one word. The instinct to flee, to be somewhere where he could tend to his own thoughts and let his emotions of frustrations and anger wander turned into an intrigued confusion, and Sgileas relaxed down, frowning at the secondborn.

Canach averted his eyes and did not speak again, a somewhat foreign yet comfortable silence settling over them. For a few agonizing seconds Sgileas  _ expected  _ Canach to speak, but the secondborn remained quiet and slowly but steadily the terror of his nightmares, the stress from his own thoughts, his tumultuous emotions slowly ceased like shallow waves losing themselves against a sandy shore. 

If he had bolted to his feet and stomped off, extradited to his own thoughts, the spiral would have started anew. He would have felt angry at himself for wasting such precious time with  _ sleep,  _ with  _ waiting _ , for not acting sooner, faster, for being  _ weak _ . 

But now that he remained seated beside the secondborn Canach’s presence reminded him why this was necessary, why he was doing it in the first place, and that any kind of self-resentment was destructive not only for him, but for all of them as well.

Sleep was necessary. Just as breathing air, just as drinking water, just as eating food. 

Rays of sunlight blinked over the horizon and illuminated the sky and for once, Sgileas felt a self-assurance that he was doing all that he could, that if he refused to do the simple things he thought negligible that affected his survival and well-being he’d not only harm himself, but also the chances of finding Trahearne.

Even if he felt it was not enough, even if he felt that he could push himself further and further and  _ further _ , there would come a point where he would leave behind himself in order to achieve that which he most craved.

And if he lost himself along the way, what good was he to Trahearne then?

Sgileas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The words felt foreign on his tongue, too large and grand to be spoken lightly, and that was why he never said them carelessly. It was not simply a manner of habit, not simply one of good etiquette. They were an admission that through the help of someone else, he’d improved and learned something new that would help him in the future, for better or for worse, and an expression that he appreciated the succour. “Thank you.”

Canach turned his head and Sgileas saw the flash of surprise only from the corner of his eyes and turned his head. Their eyes locked, the dark of Canach’s only giving the faint gleam of purple in his eyes whereas the prominent, distinctive stubbles across his brow and cheek glowed like ambers. 

Canach opened his mouth, but whatever he wanted to say was disrupted by a loud squeal behind them from a certain young asura.

 

***

 

“Tivon!” Taimi squealed when the top of Tivon’s head appeared over the steps of the stairs and the whole team looked up, the solemn silence abruptly interrupted. Tivon felt tired, not at all ready to face them all again, especially not a certain Mesmer.

He swallowed and gulped and as he made his last step something knocked him off his feet and he gasped and caught himself just barely with his hands, staring at two dark, round and innocent eyes which he recognized to be Kota’s. The Karka chirped happily and a low, throbbing pain distracted Tivon enough to forget his worries for a moment and he chuckled, slowly rising onto his feet again. He bowed down and pulled the Karka from the ground, noticing how heavy Kota had become and petted his shell before he glanced at Taimi who was seated in her golem Scruffy, her eyes opened wide in eagerness.

“ We saw a light, and then the city went nuts!” She continued and behind her the others slowly rose as well. Kas and Jory came from beneath a small advance into the spray of sunlight the dawn splayed over them, but whatever beauty Tivon might have found in the display of light over the golden pillars and gilded structures was lost when Sgileas rose from behind a pillar and moved toward him with brisk, quick steps.

“Sgileas.” Tivon brought out, completely forgetting that Taimi had spoken. The Necromancer frowned at him and opened his mouth, but Tivon spoke, “The egg. It…” He gulped and clutched Kota a tad tighter, needing the comfort, the closeness, something to hold on to, but he did not look away. “It showed me Destiny’s Edge and Trahearne, captured by Mordremoth. It was…It was tearing them apart, creating these horrific duplications and doppelgangers. I think Mordremoth is making an army.”

By the Pale Tree, Tivon wished that he had better news. That now that the egg was safe they had some kind of advantage, but all that Sgileas had...is that he had lost precious  _ time _ . 

An expression filled with pain and anger etched into the lines of Sgileas face, so clear and pronounced Tivon reached out and touched his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

“We must move.” Sgileas said briskly and turned toward Derwen and made a sharp movement with his chin, signalling for the Mesmer to take the lead. Derwen gave a nod and glanced at Tivon before he moved up the stairs, sylvari armour rustling as he moved. Tivon watched him disappear over the top, wondering why he felt suddenly tno nervous when Sgileas abruptly thrust his staff into his hand and Tivon caught it just barely.

Before Tivon could ask Sgileas turned away, not bothering to clarify. Instead he just moved up the stairs and Canach and Rytlock followed close behind, and Canach gave him a short glance as he passed by that Tivon couldn’t read.

“Tivon.” Kas greeted him and she looked concerned from Sgileas to him. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Tivon nodded toward the stairs and they walked abreast as he explained, Jory and Taimi walking behind them because the space of the stairs did not allow them all to walk beside one another. His hand curled around the wood of the staff in reminiscent 

“I’m fine.” He told her and on the last step set down Kota to walk on his own four legs again. The Karka scurried on ahead to where Sgileas was setting a punishing pace, Rytlock and Canach following not close behind. “There were these Trials that I needed to best, but it was little trouble. When I put the egg in the chamber, it showed me a vision in which Mordremoth was creating clones of Trahearne and Destiny’s Edge.”

“That’s horrible.” Kas grimaced and shook her head. “Not only does Mordremoth use the corpses to create its minions, but it can make clones as well?”

“All of Destiny’s Edge, or just Trahearne?” Taimi asked and Tivon glanced over his shoulder only briefly. 

“No, all of them.” 

“Odd.” Taimi murmured thoughtfully, but did not go on. 

“So, what kinds of tests did you have to best?” Kas gleaned, and Tivon told her about the time he’d fought Dragon minions, about the time he’d solved puzzles and run through a labyrinth and when he’d been a rabbit, at which she seemed greatly delighted.

He did not tell her about Derwen. It was… Tivon was not sure what it was, exactly. The only thing he was sure of was that he did not know what to believe, and most certainly that he was confused. Emotionally especially. 

_ “I love you.” _

Tivon bit his lip, glad that Kas and Jory were engaged in some conversation of their own. He wanted... _ By the Pale Tree _ , he wanted to believe that. There had been a time when he would have melted at hearing those three words, but now…

Now they filled him with confusion and he reprimanded himself for feeling an odd flutter in his chest. Those words were powerful. They were a sign of admission, an admission that Tivon had made months ago. 

Could he be fool enough to actually believe them? Oddly enough, even as he listened, his instincts did not tell him to flee or run or hide. There was simply quiet acceptance. Was that what this was to be, then? Tivon having wondered if anything with Derwen had been real, to slowly learn to accept to live without him, and then having him return to fill his head with confusion? 

Tivon stared at the ground, lost in thought. His legs moved without an actual command, automatically raising and walking over the various stray roots that would have caused him to stumble. 

He stared at the Mesmer ahead, watching as he moved through the thicket. Watching as Derwen lifted his hand to pull away and oscillating branch and looked over his shoulder to make sure it did not swing back into someone’s face, and as the whitedark eyes searched over the group they fell on him.

The moment was barely the fraction of a second. But for a moment Tivon felt as if the world had stopped to turn, as if the air had been punched from his chest, and he averted his eyes because he did not know what to  _ do  _ with that feeling.

The pull was there, tangible and translucent both at once, a gravity that unspooled between them even as Tivon fought the emotions swelling inside his chest with the rationality of his mind that called him an idiot.

_ He hurt you. Turning you to Nightmare could have killed you,  _ the voice whispered in his head, and he knew that he should not be forgiving, he knew that he should be angry, mad perhaps, that he should not let Derwen in, but Tivon...could do none of those things.

What would Kas think if she knew? Tivon glanced at her only briefly, but she was too engaged in a conversation with Jory to notice. What would Jory think? Or Rox, if she were here?

Or-

Braham.

The feeling of his chest clenching painfully tight left him breathless and Tivon nearly stumbled over a small tangled bush at his feet, catching his balance only barely. There was a rush in his ears and he stood still, body flushed with sudden shame and anxiety he couldn’t explain. 

“Tiv?” Kas asked, the stunt he’d made clearly not going unnoticed. “You OK?”

“Yeah, just...stumbled.” Tivon answered and it was Jory’s dark eyes that looked at him in a scrutinizing manner.

“Better be careful.” She warned, but the way she looked at him...it was as if she could see through him. 

Vail gave a caw from somewhere above their heads and Tivon was saved from having to reply to her and blinked up in confusion. Vail cawed again, more distant this time, and then Tivon whirled around, all other thoughts forgotten.

Vail was right.

“Where is Taimi?” Tivon asked and the whole party came to a sudden halt. 

“She was right behind us…” Jory murmured, “I heard her golem like two minutes ago.”

“We should-” Kas was about to suggest when Tivon sprinted down the path they had come, rushing through the thicket, “Hey, Tiv!” He heard her call, but his mind was fixed, focussed and he jumped over a large, tangled roots before coming to a halt. Taimi’s golem had left large marks in the ground here, despite the fact that it had not rained in quite a long time and Tivon knelt down, tracing the line with his fingers before he looked up again. 

“Do you know?” Tivon asked the Raven and Vail cawed above his head, having followed him easily through the canopy and labyrinth of branches and trees. The Raven opened his wings and flew off toward a cliff and Tivon followed him, head craned only sporadically to not stumble over the roots on the ground. 

Vail cowed atop his head, seated in a tree atop the cliff and Tivon frowned, wondering for a moment how Taimi had even managed to get up there when he stowed the staff on his back, vines curling around it and holding it in place as he braced himself for the climb. The pattern on his bark pulled taut underneath as he pulled himself upward and he heard the hasty rush of feet behind and beneath and when he finally reached the top, Sgileas, Canach and Jory burst through the thicket first and with  a blink Derwen did too. 

“Tivon, what are you-” Sgileas yelled and Tivon waved with his hand,

“Taimi is up here, I’ll take a look, wait there.”

He did not wait for them to reply and ducked his head beneath a large root of a tree that had grown diagonally, barely growing over the top of a small cave. Like a sunflower it had grown toward the direction of the sun and Tivon felt the cool, damp air on his skin the second the cave engulfed him. 

Vail’s wings fluttered behind him and he crouched lower, knees bending slightly as he attempted to scour closer, a strange, unsettling feeling clenching his stomach tight. This place felt dormant, as if something lurked beneath, yearning to burst out, waiting,  _ straining _ …

In the distance Tivon saw pillars that looked familiar to asuran design adjacent to what looked like a large doorway and in between the opened metal that was grown over with ivy and ferns Taimi’s magitech golem glowed. 

Tivon hastened his pace and stepped into the round chamber. The ground was overgrown with grass, time long having worn this place down that had quite evidently been asuran. 

“By the Alchemy!” Taimi squealed, for once out of her golem and she nearly dropped what she held in her hands when Tivon approached her.

“Taimi, it’s dangerous out here.” Tivon reminded her softly, eyes lingering on the pillars that surrounded a round, sagged platform in which symbols had been painted that were across the pillars as well.

“If you count predatory sylvari sneaking up on you, yeah.” She chided and clasped the glowing item in her hands more tightly, “I'm quite capable on my own. And this place is fascinating!”

“What is it?” Tivon asked casually, his eyes lingering on a map that was at the front painted against the wall, spots of light emitting from it. 

“I don't know...yet.” Taimi admitted and gave him a sheepish grin. “But...it's an odd combination of Exalted and asuran tech. Scruffy picked it up on his sensors. I think it's a data station, but it's powered down. I noticed that some of the flow connectors have...degraded. Weather will do that over time. I could repair it and get the magic streaming again if I had the right components.” Her large eyes glittered in excitement and Tivon knew exactly what was coming next. Her grin widened. “I just need something conductive...like maluranium wire, corrogen filaments, or saurian bones.”

Tivon chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Saurian bones. Those, I can get for you.”

“Awesome.”

Tivon took a look around and it was fairly easy to find already decomposed parts of saurian remains near a few holes which had at some point been used by the animals for shelter - but now they were empty and abandoned, the scent of earth and sweet, decomposing flesh lingering in the air. 

When he returned with the Saurian bones Taimi let out another squeal of excitement and got to work and despite her limp moved from one pillar to the next ceaselessly, despite the fact that she looked strained. 

Tivon sometimes forgot, but she was just a  _ child.  _ An asuran prodigy, yes, but a  _ child  _ nonetheless. He remembered the time he and Braham had saved her from the Inquest, how terribly shaken she had been. 

_ Braham. _

Tivon took a deep breath. He did not allow himself to think too much - not on Braham, not on  _ Derwen,  _ not on any of that. He’d just overthink it. Better to focus on the task at hand, better to focus on helping his friends and finding Destiny’s Edge and Trahearne than…

Feeling miserable about himself. 

“Oh, oh, it’s working!” Taimi jumped, her eyes eagerly drifting toward the map when the chamber came to life in an electric light, a hum growing vibrant through the floor. For a moment Tivon waited before he saw a glitter appear at the map, something materializing there and he gripped his staff and stepped in front of Taimi, shielding her away before he blinked in surprise as an Exalted straightened right in front of them.

“Greetings, I am Kiru.” The Exalted greeted in the manner that all Exalted spoke, nonchalant and calm, and Taimi’s mouth hung wide open.

“Whoa!” She breathed and pushed past Tivon’s legs. By the Pale Tree, she was so  _ small.  _ “ Where did-?”

“I detected this apparatus coming online and made my way here. It's been inactive for quite some time. I couldn't locate any corrogen filaments.Are you two responsible for turning it on?”

“Yeah, I…” She looked sheepishly toward Tivon, “uh, we are responsible.”

“What are those glowing dots?” Tivon asked and pointed to the small, glowing spots that marked certain areas of the map.

“Those, egg bearer,” The Exalted explained softly, “ are ley-energy concentrations”

“Ley-energy concentrations... Hmm.” Taimi frowned deeply. “So this is a map? Ah, I see. This one is here, and that one is Tarir What's this one?”

“That one is…” Kiru answered and turned to look at the map once again. “Ah, it's the jungle dragon.”

“It's larger than the rest.” Taimi noticed in dismay.

“The beast is hungry. And judging by the assaults on Tarir, I fear we're caught in its maw.” Kiru murmured, and even though his voice was soft, there was an edge there.

“Consuming so much ley energy…” Tivon wandered off. This dot however was no mere indication as to how powerful the dragon was, no. It was also a pointer as to  _ where  _ it was. “At least we know where to go to face the dragon now.”

“Yeah, that makes it better.” Taimi rolled her eyes. “Next thing you're going to tell me is this other dot is another Elder Dragon!” She pointed to another dot in between that glowed less brightly than the others, yet large enough to be noticed. 

**“** That one?” Kiru asked and if Exalted could frown, he would have. “Why that's your city.”

**“** Uh, I think I know where Rate Sum is…” Taimi said with a hint of exasperation. 

**“** Sum? No... “ Kiru sounded confused. “This city is called Rata Novus. The asura there are our allies; they aided in the construction of this very device.”

**“** Novus?” Taimi said disbelievingly, then her face lit up. “Novus! Eureka! Do you know what this means? Do you?” She was looking up at Tivon, her small hands grasping the vines and leaves curling around his calf tightly, giving them a few tugs in her excitement. “By  [ Gadd ](https://wiki.guildwars.com/wiki/Gadd) , we've found it!” She exclaimed and then turned toward Kiru once again, eyes shining brightly. “Are they here now?”

“You're the first of your kind I've seen since we woke up.” Kiru answered softly. 

“What were they doing here?” Taimi asked.

“They were seeking ways to kill Elder Dragons, and we were seeking greater protection from them. An alliance was natural.”

“Rate Novus?” Tivon asked with a frown, feeling as if he’d missed a couple of steps. “I have never heard of that.”

“The legendary lost city.” Taimi breathed in awe and reverie. “What are we waiting for? We should have been there already! We could find data, magitech, or allies there that could help fight Mordremoth!”

For a moment Tivon wanted to smile at her enthusiasm that was contagious in the best way, but he imagined telling Sgileas of this undertaking, and what the Necromancer would say if they dallied once again. Tivon doubted that the Commander would leave any stone left unturned in a normal case, but with Trahearne’s life so very clearly threatened…

Tivon could not blame Sgileas for wanting to press onward to a definite destination. 

“Taimi,” Tivon began slowly, wondering how to bring her back from the clouds, “I understand that this could be the change in tide, but we must converge and discuss this with the others first.”

“Oh.” Taimi made, excitement dampened. “Well, let’s get back to the others then.”

“Thank you for reactivating the map.” Kiru interjected. “Please tell the Novans to stop by soon, if you visit them. Good luck to you.”

“Thank you.” Tivon bowed his head and slowed his pace so Taimi could keep up and helped her get seated in her golem. As Scruffy’s lid closed he wondered how Sgileas would react and what the Necromancer would do.

 

***

 

The trails had lead to all kinds of strange places, and Rox’s confidence in herself that she could easily trace the others through the jungle proved to be true. The Mordrem left trails all throughout the jungle as well, but at this point Rox was not sure that they were heading for where Mordremoth kept Trahearne and Destiny’s Edge. 

At least they would reunite with the others soon.

She glanced over at Braham who had grown suspiciously quiet and solemn. His blue eyes seemed clouded by a dark shadow that weighed over his soul. After they had burned Eir’s body Braham had stared at the remaining ash for minutes, lost completely in thought, and then he’d taken Rox’s knife and cut the rest of his hair, leaving behind only his bald head. 

Rox had not dared to ask if it was part of the ritual (Was it a cleansing, was it part of the gift? Was it that you left something behind? A virtue you were giving up in the name of the dead one? Or was it a promise to Braham’s mother?) or on a whim. They had spoken very little, in fact. Or, they had  _ conversed  _ very little.

Rox tried again and again to cheer him up, to tell him of the things she saw and found, but she was lucky if she got a grunt as answer. Braham had taken Eir’s bow and it was strapped tightly over his broad shoulders, the sole momento that he had of her. 

“They went through here.” Rox told him from her crouched position, her claw hovering lightly over the damp imprint of Kasmeer’s heels. When she rose she could hear the thumping of something large and metallic and knew that it must be Taimi’s golem rushing off, but it was so very distant she barely heard it as it disappeared. 

When finally they emerged from the thicket in front of the cliff they were faced with the group they had been tracking, and Kas whirled around with a gasp.

“Rox, Braham!” She smiled and she and Jory came closer. For a moment Rox feared the Mesmer would hug her, but thankfully she did not. She liked Kas just fine, it was not that. “How did you find us?”

Rox chuckled at that, but noticed how weary even her laughter sounded. These past few days had taken their toll on her, and she was glad to be finally reunited with the team again. As she let her eyes glance over the group she noticed two things:

For one, Derwen was still here.

Two, Tivon and Taimi were missing.

“Tracked your trail.” Rox explained. “Where’s-”

“Where’s Tivon and Taimi?” Braham demanded, and the fact that he had spoken more than one word nearly had Rox’s eyebrows shooting through the canopy, but then again, it should not surprise her. 

Braham had bonded with Taimi a great deal, and Tivon…

Well.

“Taimi went off to some ruins and Tivon dashed after her.” Kas explained softly and gestured up the cliffs. “I am sure they will be back soon.”

“He’s fine.” A voice assured and the hairs on Rox’s neck stood. Derwen as well as Sgileas, Canach and Rytlock had drawn closer slightly, even if Derwen still stood a little solitary at the side. Not that Rox minded.

“I didn’t ask you.” Braham said, voice gone cold and apathetic, and those usual kind blue eyes were grim and set, fingers clenched tightly into fists.

“And yet,” Derwen smiled, most likely knowing fully well that he was fuelling Braham’s anger, “I am the only one who knows.”

What? What did that even mean? Kas noticed Rox’s confused stare and sighed. “The pendant.” The female murmured in dismay. 

Oh.

Well.

Despite the fact that the atmosphere was already tense enough one spark could ignite it, it somewhat diffused when Frostbite suddenly charged forward past Rox’s legs and into Kota, both crashing into each other with a loud  _ clack  _ that would have easily broken bone. The two companions were a twirl of shells and beige legs, tumbling on the ground in mirthful vaults and circles, playing and celebrating their reunion with so much more enthusiasm than Rox, Braham and the others did. 

She had wished that Tivon would be here, but now they had to wait for him, too. There had been moments she had wondered if Tivon even  _ knew _ , if he felt guilty for not being there, and even more so did she wonder  _ why  _ he had not stayed.

Damn Braham and his big mouth. If the norn had any sense he would have learned how to be silent at times. Then Tivon would have stayed. 

Tivon would have stayed and then, maybe…

The thundering steps of TaimI’s golem drew closer from the distance, fast paced and almost excited. She came into view atop the cliff and without so much as a “Watch out!” Taimi jumped down below and Scruffy rose to its full height. “Hey, everybody!” She greeted, but nobody had time to say anything as she began to yap on, “There's a lost Rata nearby. We have to go there. They're doing research on Elder Dragons! They may have magitech to help fight Mordremoth!” Her eyes blinked full of excitement and then they fell on Braham and Rox.”Braham! Oh my ears! You're back!” She squealed and stomped closer with Scruffy, grinning down at the norn. “I missed you so much!” There was a short pause and then a gasp. “You're bald!”

“Easy there, Miss Genius.” Braham chuckled lightly, former anger drained and forgotten. Instead he looked tired and weary, but the smile was genuine. “I missed you, too.”

“Braham.”

Rox felt a stillness settle over them, something like an universal truth. As if everyone held their breaths, as if everyone had wondered, if even just for a moment, how this would go. Anticipating, anxious, wondering…

Braham glanced toward where Tivon rose to his full height after he’d dropped from the cliff and Rox wished she could make them all disappear, herself, Kas, Jory,  _ Derwen  _ especially. But instead they were here, waiting…

Tivon came closer gingerly and looked just as nervous as Rox felt. Braham beside her tensed somewhat and she could see he was fighting something, most likely something that was ready to slip from his tongue.

“Tivon.” Braham brought out in a rough voice and Rox wanted to bury herself somewhere so she did not have to witness this.

“How...how are you?”

Crooked cricket, was Tivon  _ daft _ ? Braham had just lost Eir and he asked-

Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.

Braham’s voice was even when he answered, “I'm okay.” There was a short pause. “I'm eager to get back in the fight.” Tivon looked as if someone was strangling him and gulped, but Braham continued before the Druid could speak, “I heard Faolain, or whatever she's become, is still alive. I'd like to correct that.”

“Get in line, cub.” Rytlock growled and rolled his shoulders. 

Tivon clearly did not know what to say and turned toward her instead, “Rox, do you...think we’re still on the trail?”

_ You are a tracker like me,  _ Rox tried to convey with her eyes, inherently asking  _ why  _ he was avoiding to talk to Braham, and Tivon only tilted his head, eyes supplicating and she resigned herself. 

Definitely Hopeless. 

“I actually don't know that we're on their trail.” Rox said and glanced over at Derwen whose face was unreadable. “Back in Tarir, we got wind of a Mordrem prisoner caravan and decided to check it out, but I don't think it's theirs. It's not the same amount of prisoners or Mordrem we followed earlier.” She explained.

“We are still on track.” Derwen interjected. “It is not much further now.”

“We will split up.” Sgileas decided for them, and Tivon was surprised by how collected the Commander seemed to be. It was as if he’d found a center in all this madness, and the determination was not backed up by fear and anger. “Finding Trahearne and Destiny’s Edge will be only one portion in defying and besting Mordremoth. We still must defeat it.” 

“Are you...sure?” Tivon asked and Sgileas looked at him with the very same intensity and sour demeanour that Rox had seen the very first time she’d met Sgileas. It was a glance that allowed no argument, no disobedience, and Tivon gulped.

“Yes. Search for this Rata and make it quick. Rytlock, Canach, Derwen and I will press on.” 

“Alright.” Tivon agreed and took a deep, steadying breath. “Rox and I will follow your trail once we are done.”

Sgileas gave only one curt nod before he turned on his heel. “Let’s move.” The Necromancer ordered and disappeared into the thicket with the others. Derwen hesitated for a moment, staring back to where Tivon was before he too joined the Commander and disappeared.

_ Perhaps,  _ Rox thought when finally it was just  _ them  _ again and she glanced between Braham and Tivon and her eyes remained on the bow strapped around Braham’s shoulders, a plan forming in her head,  _ this can still be salvaged after all.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Here, have a cookie! *passes cookie*  
> So, Braham's back and the group's splitting up. How do you feel about that, especially not that Derwen had his great confession and is forced to leave Tivon with Braham?~  
> Well well well. I feel excited :3  
> Let's see what opportunities I can find for you, yes?


	60. The Way In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I did not want to delete this chapter because of all the wonderful comments you guys have left (Seriously you are amazing I love you guys) and that's why I've decided to copy the text of the Update here (In the End notes) in remembrance. Your encouragement has given me so much strength and energy that there was absolutely no doubt left in my mind I'd rock those exams, and I did.
> 
> Now, here you go and enjoy the real chapter 60. (Wow, 60, that's a high number. And you guys are still sticking with me. *squeals*)
> 
> This Chapter contains "Roots of Terror" and "The Way In". We get to see into many different heads this time, Jory and Kas included! (Those two are somewhat underrated, but then again when do I ever not say that about a character?) Anyway, one more exams to go, then Seruna is a free elf!  
> Oh wait, wrong franchise.  
> Anyway, take a seat, grab your popcorn, and watch as Team Rox and Jory play matchmaking.

“Where’d the green one disappear to?” Rytlock asked with a raised eyebrow and Sgileas did not even look at the Tribune. His purple eyes were instead fixed on the large outline of the cave and its interior, large, tangling roots pressing in through cracks in the ceiling, enormous mushrooms and strange luminescent plants serving as a source of light that cast a ghastly light. 

“I sent him to scout ahead.” Sgileas answered absentmindedly and slowly lowered his gaze. “Worried, Tribune?”

Rytlock growled. “If you didn’t drag him along willingly, I’d clip him into portable pieces of firewood.”

Sgileas held back his snort. “For being sylvari, or tremendously exasperating?”

“A bit of both, but more on the annoying side.” Rytlock admitted with a low snarl and glanced at the figure that approached from the distance. “Here he comes.” When Rytlock gave Canach a glare, Canach returned it with equal puissance. “Off for a stroll?” 

“I was just exploring,” Canach rolled his eyes, looking nonchalant as ever, “nothing to get your blade all bent out of shape over.” Rytlock only gave a low growl in answer, easing the claw that had rested upon the hilt of Sohothin in a defensive, yet threatening gesture as if to mock Canach. “Commander,” Canach turned toward Sgileas, ignoring Rytlock’s gauding gesture, “there’s a Pact lieutenant down there who is eager to talk to you. She and a few others managed to escape one of the Mordrem prisoner caravans. They set up a makeshift camp, but... Something’s wrong.”

“And that something is…?” Sgileas raised an eyebrow and Canach shrugged his shoulders, not even trying to hide his shit-eating grin.

“Why don’t you take a look and tell me?”

“Why don’t you simply scout seriously?” Sgileas snapped back, “Did you not talk with them?”

“How could I possibly perceive what upsets humans?” Canach asks dramatically. “Perhaps it’s the colour of my skin that has them alarmed? Or something more general: The current unfavourable circumstances surrounding the existence of our kin, perhaps?”

The secondborn did not look at Rytlock when he said it, but Sgileas was  _ certain _ now that Canach had heard their previous conversation. 

“And I am sure that talking to the revered  _ Commander of the Pact  _ must seem a most joyous event,” Canach continued, apparently on a spree, “in comparison to being captured by Mordremoth, but I am missing half the comparison, so consider me no expert on the subject.”

Sgileas rolled his eyes and brushed past Canach. “You may rest and reinstate your miffed sense of existence if you deem it necessary.”

“It is not that easily mouldered.” Canach smiled crookedly and followed. “My self-importance is illustrious and prone to mend itself appropriately, I assure you.”

“Don’t I know.” Sgileas replied dryly. Derwen looked mirthful in the back, but Sgileas was barely paying the Mesmer any mind. Now that the Nightmare Courtier was here with them and not with Tivon, there was little cause for trouble. 

He took the path Canach had scouted and moved down the slope, careful to not slip on the moist moss and the slippery stones. He could see the camp Canach had mentioned in the distance and moved a little faster. 

“Lieutenant.” Sgileas greeted with a curt nod of his head and the agent looked up at him from her crouched position and gaped.

“Commander.” She greeted and looked as if she was staring at a ghost. Her mouth hung open for a moment, her eyes widened in disbelief. “We thought you were…” She trailed off, gulped and then continued as if she had never uttered those words. “Mordrem assaulted us the moment we hit the ground. The survivors were taken prisoner.”

Sgileas frowned. “You managed to escape?”

“Yes. Marshal Trahearne, Zojja, and Captain Thackeray created a diversion so a few of us could escape.” She explained.

It was beyond hope but…”Are they here?” Sgileas asked and tried to keep his face and voice as level as possible. 

“I’m afraid not.” The woman murmured in dismay. “They sacrificed their own chance at freedom so we could get away. The Mordrem took them.” She was entirely oblivious to what those words did to him. The flicker of hope shrivelled in Sgileas’ chest, melting away like the fractal of a snowflake in a ray of sunlight. Sgileas not only heard her words, but he put one and one painfully together. 

If she and the other prisoners had thought him dead, Trahearne must have assumed the same. He took a deep breath, the clench of his chest constricting his air in ways that was painful and aching, and he wished he could somehow suffuse and telegraph that he was alive, that he was  _ well _ , all things considered, but he couldn’t. 

“Which direction did they go?”

“I was too out of it. Our magister would know. He was the last to escape.” There was a small, conscience-stricken and penitent pause. “But he’s not here.”

“Where is he?” Sgileas asked lowly, realized that he sounded almost threatening, and the woman gulped audibly at the impatience in his tone.  

“A monster’s been attacking the camp.” She explained apologetically. “It’s picking us off a couple at a time. The magister led a group after it, to kill it. Through the mushroom-lit passage there.” She pointed toward a small crevice in between the large rocks where mushrooms gave a strange luminescent light, most likely to attract unsuspecting travelers.

“I will go after the magister.” Sgileas declared and beckoned the others to follow. If this Magister knew something, then Sgileas did not have to trust Derwen any longer. It was already a stretch to have the Mesmer tag along as he did. 

Apparently, Derwen could read minds because he observed accurately, “There is little point to go after a stray, most-likely dead magister. The caravan is due south.”

“They are Pact.” Sgileas dead-panned and he ducked beneath a forking, shrivelled root that grew from a crevice above their heads. “The Pact does not leave its own behind.”

“We are wasting time.” Derwen pointed out with a sly, crooked smile that Sgileas could not so much see as  _ hear _ , and worst was he could  _ imagine  _ seeing it right in front of him, even though he chose to pointedly stare ahead. 

“You are free to stay behind and guard the camp.” Sgileas offered sharply and finally turned around toward the Mesmer and stood still, showing through the glare of his eyes and the stiffness of his posture that there was no argument to be had. 

Derwen stopped and tilted his head, his darkwhite eyes gleaming dangerously in the dim. There is a clear allure there, and Sgileas feels as if he’s been caught in a spider’s web, one movement threatening to bring the webbing astir. “Very well.” Derwen says and turns around with a grace that seems impossible to muster, the movement to fluid and graceful Sgileas wonders if it is on purpose or a habit.

The Mesmer hummed his familiar tune that slowly faded into the distance and Sgileas finally turned back around. He should feel relieved that Derwen is gone, but the fact that the Mesmer went so willingly and without protest stroke him as odd. 

“Let’s move.” Sgileas issued simply to disrupt the strange, thick silence that settled over them. Canach and Rytlock make no sound and follow him through the cave that smelled moist and mouldy, the ground splattered with spots of green that reflect the glow of the mushroom in a dull, neon colour. 

“Green residue… looks like creature blood.” Rytlock grumbled and knelt down to inspect that blob of green. The cave felt quiet, but in a heavy, heady way that made Sgileas skin crawl. As if he was being watched. 

He stepped away and glanced upward toward where the root did not obstruct his view on the ceiling and he saw only blackness. For a moment it didn’t unnerve him until he realized when he glanced down that his entire vision had gone black. 

He blinked, once, twice, and then he felt it, a cold, icy chill that traveled over his spine and fingers that dove into his skull, clenching and gripping his mind,  _ his thoughts _ , holding tight, tight,  _ tight.  _

He knew that feeling of intrusion, he knew the scalding heat boiling inside his head and the stark contrast of the shiver along his spine. He also knew that when the darkness began to form a shape that he was seeing things, but all he could do was close his eyes and furrow his eyebrows when a sharp, white pain echoed through his skull.

_ “Serve me,”  _ Mordremoth whispered and Sgileas saw the mask of the dragon appear before him, a large construct that was made up of nothing but shadows and his own Shroud hissed and flailed in return.  _ “Serve me, as  _ he  _ does.” _

He, he-

No.

No, that couldn’t be.

“What have you-” Sgileas rasped out and felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back. He made a surprised noise and whirled around, the long, winded arms of his Shroud swinging around him as he did, but the sudden jolt of panic ebbed away when he saw it was Canach staring at the mask that Sgileas had seen with a grim expression, and then the dark, onyx eyes settled on him with a flick.

The hand on his shoulder was warm and firm, and Canach’s eyes switched between his in a scrutinizing manner. Sgileas felt a sudden burst of irritation. Did Canach think he’d falter that easily? That Mordremoth would get into his head quite so simply? 

Sgileas lifted his arm and with a circling motion dislodged Canach’s grip with an annoyed expression and strut past him, trying to smother the coruscate of anger that had risen like a fire in which oil had been poured. 

Their distraction went unnoticed by Rytlock who was still observing the residue and Sgileas was glad for the small, blessed miracles. “Anything on our man?” Sgileas asked pertly and Rytlock wrinkled his nose.

“I am not sure what kind of creature we are looking for,” Rytlock began, “but if it’s something new that we have not encountered before, this might be it.”

Sgileas gave a curt nod, the headache easing into a low thrum in the back of his head. “Let’s find out.”

With certain steps Sgileas moved forward, his shoulders drawn back and chest lifted to make him appear taller. There was no way that Mordremoth would get into his head, not with words, not with lies, not with-

“ _ Serve me as he does.” _

Trahearne. Trahearne.  _ Trahearne.  _

By the Pale Tree, the pain etched into Sgileas soul felt like a mark, a curse, festering and spreading. Despite his efforts the thoughts slipped through his barricades and he wondered, briefly, stark and with the edge of a honed blade,

_ What if it’s true? _

No, no. No. It couldn’t be. It... _ couldn’t _ .

Bodies. Just a few steps away lay corpses sprawn over the cave floor and Sgileas inspected them. It was Rytlock who turned one of them around, revealing a large corrosion that spread over the man’s chest. Whatever kind of attack it had been, it had been laced with an aggressive acid that had eaten not only armour, but dug so deep into the skin and seared the edges to form a grotesque border.

Rytlock made a disgruntled noise and the body flopped down, remaining completely still. “Looks like they didn't make it. I don't see anyone with magister armor among the bodies.”

“Then he either moved on without them, or he’s been captured by...something. We need to find him—preferably alive.”

“Preferably?” Canach asked with a raised eyebrow. “Your concern for these people is touching as always, Commander.”

“The faster we kill Mordremoth, the less people die.” Sgileas snapped back. 

“Then why,” Canach asked, voice low, “Are we searching for a prison caravan instead of mounting a force to defeat Mordremoth?”

Mulch.

Canach got him there, and Canach  _ knew  _ it. They glared at one another and to Sgileas surprise, even though he was the one who was wrong in this, chewing his lip and contemplating his next words, Canach was the one who backed down. “I am sure many roads lead to the same destination.” The secondborn said, and it was not merely a peace offering. 

It was a sign of trust and loyalty, that wherever Sgileas decided to go, Canach would follow him, for better or for worse. 

Sgileas found it hard to hate him right then, but that did not mean he tried any less. There was only the one defense Sgileas knew for these kinds of situations and it was to make people hate him so that in return, he did not have to deal with the kind of emotions that were not only bothersome and tedious, but also far too complex and complicated for him to grasp.

“You are always free to leave.” Sgileas said harshly.

Canach, the damned intolerable and brazen secondborn, chuckled.  _ Chuckled,  _ of all the things. “And who would challenge your wit then? Kasmeer? Imagine the horror.”

“As if  _ you  _ could.” Sgileas declared haughtily and continued onward through the passage ahead. 

“I am quite confident I  _ can _ , Commander.” There is a small pause and Canach’s crooked smile is all the warning Sgileas got, “I am sure that without me, this whole ordeal would be a great bore to your supremacy.”

“Ugh, cut it out.” Rytlock grumbled before Sgileas could answer. “My ears are about to bleed and fall off. There, ahead.”

Sgileas followed the gesture of Rytlock’s hand and saw that indeed, just a little bit further the cave opened into a wide pocket, the sand crystalline and burning almost brightly against his eyes that had adjusted to the darkness. 

A creature that reminded him strangely of the Karka that hushed around at Tivon’s side, but this one was much, much larger, crowded over a heap of clothes, no over a man, a  _ norn _ , and Sgileas noticed the Priory clothing flash blue beneath the creatures legs.

“That's definitely no Mordrem,” Canach stated the obvious.

“Maybe not, but it'll die just as well.” Sgileas promised darkly and rushed forward, dark magic forming into a curved blade around his palm and with a fling of his wrist he sends it forward. 

There was a flash of blurry gray as Rytlock displaced around the creature, appearing for only long enough to strike at its hardened shell. Sohothin left large scorch marks, searing through the armoured shell with ease due to its intense heat. 

Sgileas made a pulling motion with his hand, leeching the life force from the creature and tugged at the strands of life, ripping them free slowly. It felt like ripping the strings from a harp, each time a strand snapped the creature seemed to lower, to falter, to lose its strength, and finally Canach rushed past him to deliver cuts where its armour was weakest, where the shell did not protect vulnerable flesh.

The creature gave a wailing screech and then finally fell to the ground with a loud crash, the earth reverberating beneath Sgileas’ feet. He did not wait until the creature had stopped moving. He knelt down beside the Norn who looked stunned and dazed, eyes blinking up at him in confusion. 

“Commander?” The norn choked. “You came for me?”

Sgileas remembered his argument with Canach just prior to this and he couldn’t help the pang of guilt. “We’re going to get you out of here.” He murmured simply to avoid a more blunt truth.

“No. Raven is already here for me.” 

Sgileas frowned and out of utterly nowhere he felt the brush of air, something light and feathery tickling his cheek as claws dug into his shoulders. He turned his head just slightly and noticed Vail, Tivon’s raven, staring down at the norn with dark, deep eyes. Something was happening, something was conveyed because the Norn’s breath hitched and he nodded. Then the Magister blinked up at Sgileas again with weary, hazy eyes that looked at the edge of faltering.

“They…” The Magister croaked, voice breaking, “They were...taken into the jungle, heading deeper into Mordrem territory. Due south.” Vail shifted just slightly and the Magisters eyes settled on the Raven and lingered there for the last second until the light dimmed in his eyes, then his body relaxed and his hands fell limply toward the floor with an almost inaudible thud, small particles of sand scattering against Sgileas’ knees. 

When Sgileas lifted his gaze Vail slowly met his eyes. There had always been intelligence in those bird’s eyes, Sgileas had always seen it, but this…

This seemed to transcend simple intelligence. 

“You are something else.” Sgileas noticed and Vail only stared at him, naturally not giving an answer. When he stood Vail took to the air, soaring through the cave in circles. Why was the Raven here with them and not with Tivon? Was Vail not his companion? 

Sgileas shook his head. He was not about to delve into the mind of an animal, not when he had a lead such as this. “So he was right.” Rytlock grumbled beside him and Sgileas nodded grimly.

Apparently Derwen was telling the truth. Sgileas was only waiting for the one opportunity to dispose of the Mesmer once and for all. A sylvari with such powers - even ones that were yet unknown - living among his enemies was too much of a threat to ignore. 

Derwen would live. At least for another day.

 

***

 

Jory glanced over at Tivon and Braham. The Druid was casting the Norn glances whenever the Guardian was not looking, and that action alone spoke louder than any words the Necromancer had ever heard being uttered.

_ I worry for you, are you OK?  _

It was one thing to dance. She had certainly enjoyed it with Kasmeer, the graceful swing and gyrating around one another in figurative terms, tip-toeing and seeing where they stood, slowly edging closer until the truth was no longer deniable, but  _ this —  _ This was no longer a dance. It was as if both parties had decided to dance, fallen into a heap of sprawled limbs and were never getting back up again.

A spark of green caught her periphery visions and she met Rox’s eyes and concluded from the way Rox glanced over at the two, then back with a roll of her eyes, that the Charr too had noticed not only the awkward silence between the two, but that  _ something  _ needed to happen. It was a good thing Derwen was not here. The Mesmer’s presence would only be a complication, a time-bomb that ticked, and nobody being able to tell when it would go off.

Without him, perhaps they could work something out.  

Taimi was quipping away, not even bothered by the heavy silence between Braham and Tivon, as if she had not even noticed. “There were these Pylons that activated when Glint’s egg came near and the Priory folk were trying to figure out how it worked. The mirrors apparently act as collectors for energy, magnifying it and transmitting it across the outpost to deliver equal amounts of energy. It had the inherent effect of repelling any Mordrem, and none of them dared to enter so long as the defense was intact. Sadly the others came back from their chase — without having captured Faolain, I might add — and tore me away before I could unravel any more.”

“Sounds like you were having fun without us.” Kasmeer laughed and brushed a hand over the golden glowing flow of her dress and the motion caught Jory’s eye for a moment. There was a grace and ease that Kasmeer carried, one that seemed to come and float so natural through everything that she did like water. She knew it was many, many years of early training that had influenced Kasmeer in such a way, and yet Jory could not help but admire her for. “I remember back in Divinity’s Reach we used to have attractions for children where parents could leave them temporarily and pick them up later.”

“I’m not a child.” Taimi chided with a pout, not exactly putting up a good case. “I am progeny and prodigy. Besides, Rata Novus would have remained lost if not for me.”

“Oh, we  _ are  _ proud of you.” She looked up at Scruffy’s visor and met Taimi’s large, round eyes, her smile just at the verge of teasing. “Just try not to run off whenever you see something sparkling, magpie.”

“It wasn’t  _ sparkling, _ ” Taimi sounded exasperated now, “My sensors picked up this energy signature that functioned on a low enough frequency to remain hidden.”

“Perhaps it was meant to  _ stay  _ that way.” She ducked her head under a low hanging branch and heard it slapping against Scruffy’s metallic outer layer behind her. 

“Why do you think Rata Novus was lost?” Kas wondered aloud, and Taimi squirmed a little in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know, but I am sure we will soon.”

That set a momentary, awkward silence in which Jory once again glanced over her shoulder, just so that it looked as if she was inspecting something at the back, her movement looking inconspicuous and completely unnoteworthy, her dark eyes mustering Tivon who had ducked his head and was staring at the ground between his feet, and Braham stalking at Rox’s side, the farthest one out.

“So,” Rox broke through the silence and once again her green eyes seemed to have noticed Jory’s movement despite it having been made with a subtle intent.  “What else did we miss? What about the egg?”

“Caithe had it.” She answered and brushed past a vine that dangled from a large branch overhead and lifted it for Kasmeer who gave her a grateful nod and smile, “when Faolain attacked her she lost it and Tivon got a hold of it. We then brought it to Tarir.”

“That big, golden city?”

“Yes. The Exalted are apparently protectors, and Tivon trusted them with the egg.”

“And then?”

Jory shrugged, “And then you met us.”

“So,” Rox said and the way she said it and her large, green eyes bored into hers, Jory knew some game was on. “That means we can all-in Mordremoth now?” The motion was subtle, so very subtle Jory almost missed it, but the female Charr adjusted her bow just slightly, and Jory got it. 

Oh, that  _ clever  _ beast. She and Rox had gotten along much, much better since the Charr was giving her advice on how to get a handle on Belinda’s greatsword, and Jory knew now that Rox may appear quiet, but there was so much more to the superstitious, luck-charm wearing Charr than was obvious at first glance, and  _ this _ , this right here was only more evidence of her ingenuity and wit. 

By the Gods, she could barely hide her smirk and looked up at Braham. “Depends. Have you had any training with that?” She gestured to the bow strung over Braham’s shoulder and chest, and the Norn seemed perplexed to even be addressed and part of the conversation. 

She and Braham...after she had convinced Tivon to meditate, they’d been on bad terms and the Norn had refused to listen to her and she’d accepted that (What  _ else  _ was she supposed to do, after all, when Braham was being quite so overprotective? If anything she had hoped it would give Braham some sort of clarity, but something less subtle was in order.)

“I know a bit, yeah,” Braham answered evasively, and he was shifting a bit uncomfortably. Conscious, then, of his lacking abilities? Or was the Norn just generally fidgety since Eir had died? It would be for her to ponder about and find out. 

Jory pulled at the handle of her greatsword that was carefully sheathed on her back, bringing it around and in front of her to inspect it. “Personally I could still use some help, Rox.” She murmured, faking the self-disappointment that tinted her tone and she looked up at Braham again. “And Tivon could teach you how to use your bow.”

Braham looked positively startled now and it took all of Jory’s discipline not to crack into laughter, which, considering that she had used these kind of tactics in interrogations before (Playing the unknowing, timid and inane maden to gather the intel she needed) was as easy as putting on a mask. Perhaps this compared best to what Kasmeer had — a trained side of her that could be utilized at wish. 

“Sure.” Rox came to an abrupt halt and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, playing her part to perfection, “Better practice before we reach Rata Novus. Who knows what we will encounter there.”

“Oh, so we’re training now?” Kasmeer smiled and let the butt of her staff clank softly against the ground and it gave a vibrant thrum of purple sparkles that looked like feathers descending toward the jungle floor. “I can summon a few training targets.”

Absolutely perfect. She wanted to give Kas a kiss, but instead settled for putting a hand on the small of the Mesmer’s back. 

“We—” Tivon began in a stutter, “Shouldn’t we, I mean, aren’t we—”

And thank the God’s, because even Taimi seemed to have caught on. “Jory and Rox are right.” Taimi chimed in. “There must be a reason Rata Novus was lost. Better be prepared than sorry. Plus, there’s some additional data I can sift through which I gathered while with the Priory that could give us additional information about the structure and its integrity. I’ll need some time, but it shouldn’t be long.”

“Alright!” Kas visibly sparkles as she lifts her hand into the air with a graceful movement, and a translucent clone appeared hidden behind the trees, rushing through the leaves and branches like a purple ghost. “Who goes first?”

 

***

 

Jory and Rox grouped together some distance away, engrossed in a conversation that involved the greatsword clammed tightly in Jory’s hand. Taimi was seated in her golem Scruffy and cheerfully stared at something on her screen, clearly too distracted by what she was reading to pay attention to where they were headed and Kas sauntered off to provide Jory with a more closer target, her other clone still hushing through the trees.

Which left Tivon and Braham awkwardly standing beside one another, feeling isolated like stray islands across the ocean. Tivon wanted to speak, he really did, but no words came to his mind. 

“So…” He shuffled with his foot against the ground, relishing the feeling of stones against the soles of his feet. It grounded him somewhat and he sheepishly glanced up at Braham, “Have you...used a bow before?”

“I’m a Norn.” Braham answered curtly and Tivon suppressed the instinct to flinch. “We’re all hunters.”

“Right.” Tivon inclined his head, shoulders dropping forward and sighed. This...it did not work, did it? He had not meant to question Braham’s abilities, yet the Norn chose to take it as insult and shoved him away with words, just like he had  _ then _ . Back when Eir had died, when Tivon had failed to— No, no, he couldn’t blame himself for her death. He had tried, and he had failed, yes, but it wasn’t... _ his  _ fault. And Tivon did not blame Braham for saying those words; he only blamed himself for believing them. He was about to speed up to escape the prison of their short, awkward silence, the impairment of what they had hanging over them both like a storm cloud heavy with rain, when Braham suddenly cleared his throat.

“But I don’t mind the help.”

Tivon looked over his shoulder and Braham was lifting his head from where he had stared at the ground and Braham’s azure-blue eyes met his own for the first time since they’d seen one another. 

Blue. Clear and blue like a vacant summer sky, wonderfully sparkling and glinting like the waves of the clear, wide sea. There was no tether to blame for the sudden thrum that rose in Tivon’s chest like a drum, there was no excuse for the fact that his throat felt dry. 

In that moment he wondered…

What would have happened had he stayed? He would have been with Braham, he would have stood close and grasped his arm, forearm, his hand, squeezed it in a gesture of comfort, and even though it never had happened that way because fate liked to play with them all, Tivon saw it so vividly and clearly it made him dizzy. 

“O-Okay.” Tivon loitered for a moment to drag in a much needed breath, his brain feeling murky and slow. Carefully he stepped closer, azure eyes caressing over him like the waves of the sea and Tivon held out his hand, all his effort on keeping it from shaking. “May I?”

Braham pulled the bow from his shoulder and chest, muscles rippling on his forearm and exposed chest and Tivon averted his eyes until the long, wooden shaft of the bow was held out before him. His fingers curled around the wood carefully, fingers giving a soft quiver and he was glad their fingers did not brush.

The wood was hard, just a hint of elasticity, and carved into the wood was a pack of wolves chasing from one end to the other, an intricate design that showed what a great hunter Eir had been, and how very dedicated to the Spirits. The detail of the Wolves pelts was astonishing, yet the wood did not see to have a single jagged edge, not even one dent or imperfection that had splintered. The surface was smooth despite the light playing with the design as if the wolves were alive, and Tivon felt his heart ache. 

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out before he could think better of them, his mouth running before his brain even registered. The words were out there now and he could not snatch them back and he gulped and gripped the bow a little tighter, slowly, steadily lifting his gaze. “I’m so sorry Braham.”

_ I am sorry that your mother died after you had finally come to know her, I am sorry that Mordremoth ripped her from your life before you had a chance to redeem the time lost. I am sorry that I was powerless to stop it, I am sorry I did not stay, I am sorry you had to go through this alone, and I am sorry I was not there as I should have been. _

_ By the Pale Tree,  _ so many regrets, so much hurt and morose that he felt bled into his chest scratching him open with claws of emotion that left everything raw. Despite this, having spoken his soul and fearing the consequence of it, he felt…

He felt Braham deserved to know. He felt that Braham  _ needed  _ to know.

“When…” Tivon began, courage draining from his heart, sinking down into his legs apparently and into the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay.” 

Braham’s eyes were on him, boring into him now, nothing like soft, weaving waves frequently caressing the shore. The Norn’s eyes were ice shards, piercing deep, deep,  _ deep,  _ so gut-deep Tivon feared he’d be left to bleed open. 

But he’d read that wrong. When Braham glanced away the hurt, the pain, the sharp edges of his eyes that were cleaving like knives were not meant to cut  _ him _ , but Braham himself. 

“It is not your fault.” Braham murmured and for a moment Tivon was not sure which Braham meant — the fact that Eir had died due to his incompetence or that he had not stayed — when it became clear Braham meant  _ both _ . “It was mine.”

“No,” Tivon argued, once again mouth running without his brain having a chance to  _ think _ . It felt so natural to raise his hand, to step closer, to reach out and—

And—

His fingers met skin. Warm skin. Hairs brushed away under his fingertips that lay flattened over Braham’s forearms, muscles tensing just slightly under the touch but he didn’t move away, didn’t flinch. 

Tivon had expected Braham to step away, move his shoulder, to pull his arm back, but he didn’t. Braham stayed, frozen, still, right where he stood. 

“No,” he murmured again and squeezed. This is what he should have done back then, what he should have…

Perhaps there always was time to repair what had been broken.

Braham looked...weary, tired. As if he did not want to put up a fight, as if he wanted to let the emotion of melancholy flow freely but a guarded, glassy gate closed over his eyes, closing that emotion away, not allowing it out.

Just the fact that Tivon had seen it, had seen Braham cover up the pain…

It was more than Tivon had hoped for. He’d thought that Braham might hate him, loathe him for what he had and had not done. 

“Here.” Tivon held out Eir’s bow, pressing it into Braham’s hand and warm, calloused fingers curled against his own, clasping his against the wood, but Tivon didn’t mind. The touch lasted one second, two, three...until Tivon gently pulled his fingers away and Braham allowed it. With a motion of his hand Tivon twirled his wrist, a vine rising from the ground toward his hand and he ripped it free. With another tug of nature magic it hardened and formed a slightly misshapen arrow that would serve its purpose for now.

Braham took it and knocked the arrow in with a motion that looked controlled, but not trained. A long forgotten movement that had been grounded into Braham’s brain at some point in his life, experience lost to time and neglect. 

Before Braham even tried to shoot Tivon interjected firmly but gingerly, adjusting Braham’s fingers, his hand, his elbow, tapped his shoulder to sign for him to relax. Braham let him, following Tivon’s corrections wordlessly and repeated the motion of pulling the arrow toward him, string taut and shivering. 

Tivon glanced toward the clone hushing through the thicket, a stray of purple lining in between patches of green. He gave a nod and Braham let the make-shift arrow fly with a swish. A moment of silence and the arrow disappeared into the shadow and landed with a  _ tuk  _ in the bark of a tree right after a loud shattering noise rang through the air. 

Braham lowered the bow, a contemplative expression on his face before he glanced down at Tivon. The expression was still guarded, still far away, but Tivon knew that now at least, there would be no awkward air left between them. It would take time. Braham was hurt, covering it up, trying to make the problem disappear with a square of his shoulders, but as Tivon watched Braham take strides, slowly easing into movements as he pulled the bow tautly and let the arrows fly, missing at first before becoming better and better, he knew that at least this time, at least  _ now _ , he was here. 

He conjured another make-shift arrow, perfecting the technique with each time that he molded the vine into its shape, and when Braham all but held out his hand absent-mindedly without even looking, simply trusting, Tivon smiled despite the fact that Braham could not see.

This...they…

They would be OK.

 

***

 

Rox glanced over her shoulder, the sound of arrows being fired a very familiar thing to her ears, and when she saw Tivon step in close to Braham, adjusting his grip and posture, she gave a weak smile. 

“It’s working, huh.” 

“Sometimes all that is required is a little push.” Jory swung her greatsword, the lessons she had learned from Rox sinking in steadily and surely, grace and something entirely  _ Majory  _ mixing in with each strike. Perhaps it was the bitter chill that cut through the air, or the hiss of the blade as it passed by, but Rox was glad they were both on the same side. 

“Just...don’t push too hard.” Kas warned and her eyebrows were furrowed into a worried frown. “Many of my friends would have come together naturally were it not for someone's interference when they weren’t ready.”

“We do not have the luxury of time.” Jory’s voice sharper and she slowly lowered the greatsword and with a jerk of her head swung a strand of hair over her shoulder. “We need to defeat Mordremoth and we have to work together to achieve it.”

“But Tivon and Braham aren’t just-” Kas interjected and Jory’s face softened. 

“I know, honey.” She soothed, “but I do not mean just Mordremoth. I mean Derwen, too.”

Kas grip on her staff tightened, a cold-hearted fury passing through her eyes. “I just don’t get it.” She glanced over at Tivon who was too busy moulding an arrow in his hands from a vine he had conjured. “What does he see in him?”

Rox remembered the night in the tavern after the Summit, after Tivon had woken from his exhausted state on told her about these strange powers...and about how he could not let go of Derwen. 

When she looked over at Braham she hoped desperately that was no longer true. 

“First love, sweetheart,” Jory murmured, “you never really forget.”

There was something haunted to her voice, the memory of a ghost, a box that had been hidden away, the hurt appearing only for a few, brief seconds. What had it been? Betrayal? Loss? 

Rox could only guess. 

Kas averted her eyes and it was clear that she too remembered a memory of her own, guilt and admission forming resignation upon her features. “Derwen is only going to use him and hurt him.”

“We’re his friends,” Jory sheathed the greatsword with a click that sounded final, “we’ll keep an eye on him.”

Rox heard it, even if Jory did not say it.

_ And on Derwen, too. Just in case.  _

 

***

 

There was no stopping Tivon from bursting through the thicket. For a moment the group was startled into abrupt stillness before they follow him with questioning cries, but they might as well not have bothered.

Tivon was smiling up at a large creature - a Nuhoch, as Kas recalled - and the creature looked positively bemused by Tivon’s sudden appearance. 

“ Tizlak!” Tivon greeted and Kas brushed over the hem of her dress, straightening out a wrinkle. It was odd enough that they had managed to get so far into the Maguuma Jungle without Mordremoth attempting to stop them. Was it perhaps not perceiving them? No, somehow Kasmeer doubted that. She could feel as if a heavy pair of eyes rested on her, and it most certainly was not Jory’s dark eyes that mustered her with an unasked question. 

“Well, hello! What brings you through this way?” Tizlak chortled out with a deep, throaty sound Kas recalled to often come from the Nuhoch and instead decided that whatever conversation Tivon and Tizlak were having was of importance, yes, but also in good hands. 

She stepped closer toward Jory and leaned in slightly, eyes never leaving Tivon and the large Nuhoch as they conversed in the background. “I’m worried.” Kas admitted in almost a whisper and turned her head slightly. 

“About?” Jory gleaned, her dark eyes, always so intelligent and cool and collected, slowly settling on her. She always felt Jory could see through her, see through her illusions, the get-up, to see only that which lay beneath. A flush of warmth spread into Kas’ cheeks and she hid it with a perky inclination of her head, blonde hair gliding over her shoulders over her bosom. 

“We are getting closer and closer to Mordremoth, but the dragon is not attempting to hinder or stop us.” Kas explained, eyes gazing Tivon up and down. “And considering how much trouble we have caused - and the threat we pose - should we not be dealt with?”

“You forget,” Jory answered and came closer, her scent wafting into Kas’ nostrils and she turned, her eyes looking over the pale of Jory’s face, the dark hair that was just slightly oily from the long exposure in the jungle, the hair-pin still resting in its usual place. “Mordremoth controls the mind. It would be just in its nature to play with us and lure us in, or pretend to have a trap set for us. There will be no certainty unless we move on.”

“I know.” Kas murmured because she  _ did _ , even if she had not come to the conclusion herself. “But it has not appeared in their heads for a while now, has it?”

Jory’s eyes were calculating and unyielding. “Do we  _ know  _ that for sure?” She asked lowly, dark eyes casting a glance toward Tivon who was still chatting with the Nuhoch. Beside Tivon were Rox and Braham, and just behind them was Taimi, eagerly listening in whereas Frostbite and Kota toiled somewhere on the ground, occasionally bumping into legs and raising a dust-cloud unless called upon. 

“He would have told us.” Kas argued. “He said that his powers negate the Dragon’s corruption.” That was one more reason Mordremoth should be trying to stop them but it  _ wasn’t _ . It was not doing  _ anything _ , and that, the uncertainty,  _ not knowing _ , that was what brought real shivers and terror to roll over her spine.

“It’s a warfare for the mind meant to make us uneasy and then break us, slowly.” Jory’s hand on the small of her back was a small comfort. It always was, rare as the touch had become. Both their thoughts were set toward their target, and neither of them dwelled on their more capricious natures. 

Jory gave a gentle squeeze and Kas turned her head and smiled quizzingly. 

“He will be fine, Kas.”

Was her worry that open? Did she wear her heart for all to see? She worried for all of them, but somehow, deep within her chest she had this feeling, a  _ hunch _ , that much, much worse was to come.

Whether it was because Mordremoth was waiting for them like a spider in its net, or because of something else that would go atrociously wrong she could not discern.

Tivon smiled at her. “We’ve found our way in.” He announced and Taimi was already babbling about  _ “What are we doing here then? Let’s move, go, go,”  _ shoeing Braham, Rox and Tivon ahead whereas Kas could simply not shake the feeling that whatever peace they’d found…

It would shatter like a fragile dome of glass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what the original chapter said:  
>  __
> 
> Hello everyone!  
>  Before you panic: I am fine and this fic isn't over. It's just a temporary, about a two-week standby. I have three exams left, two of which occur next week, and then the last one the week after. I simply can not find the time to sit down and give attention to the story, and I do not want to fabric something short and completely unworthy of your attention, so bear with me a while longer. I'm giving these exams my all and once that is done I will have time to write as I used to. I know you are with me in heart and mind, and I appreciate all the encouragement you guys have given me. You are absolutely wonderful readers and people, and I could hope for no better support than that which you have given me.  
> I love you all and I will see you soon,  
> much love,  
> S~
> 
> Thanks for reading this chapter! You might be wondering why I let such a wonderful opportunity to have Braham mad at Tivon to create more drama slip by - the reason is pretty simple: I want to take it easy on you guys because we all know this peace isn't gonna last and a certain charming and suave (*cough* not *cough) Mesmer is waiting to steal Tivon away. So, no Drama. Not yet, anyway :D  
> Also, this is the first steps of many to where I want Tivon to end up in concerning his character development. Perhaps you thought it was out of character, and that's fine too, let me know! I'm happy to discuss it with you.  
> Next chapter coming up next week, stay tuned and stay safe!  
> Love you guys <3


	61. Buried Insight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It has been a long time (It feels like ages for me, makers breath), but I am back!  
> My exams are over and I've passed them all, and I'd like to give you all a warm, loving hug for all the encouragement you guys have given me. It's so hard to express in few enough words how grateful I am to have you, and I hope I can make up for lost time.  
> Now, on to the fun stuff!  
> I actually uploaded a chapter last week, but I am sure that went somewhat unnoticed. This is partly my fault because Chapter 60 was the "A Quick Update" chapter, but I did not want to skip over it so instead I edited it and changed it, but I have kept the message in the Endnotes. I couldn't bear deleting the Chapter because it would have deleted all your wonderful comments, and I couldn't do that.  
> So for those of you who didn't know, take a step back to Chapter 60 and enjoy! Then come back and Enjoy ONE MORE! How cool is that?!  
> We are slowly nearing the end of HoT as well, and some big reveals are coming. I hope you will...  
> "BE PREPAAAAAAA~RED" (*imitates Scar from TLK*)  
> Ahem.  
> Enjoy, my lovelies. This is all for you.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Taimi could not contain the noises erupting from her throat, excitement bubbling straight from her chest. Tivon smiled up at her mirthfully as she practically jumped up and down in her seat, body tense like a spring and almost glued to Scruffy’s visor. “Do you know what this means? Do  _ you _ ?” 

“You are about to go into epilepsy?” Jory provided and Taimi puffed out her cheeks with a pout. 

“This is a _ n historic find _ , people! We found a lost,  _ ancient  _ Rata!”

“Now to figure out how that came to be.” Braham murmured and glanced down the tunnel toward where it bent around the corner. There was a soft humming noise, but other than that it was...quiet.

Maddeningly quiet.

They moved down the steep slope, sand sloshing down at their feet, making the area a little harder to tread when Tivon saw a dark imprint and lifted his hand, signalling them all to halt. 

“Wait,” He glanced around and there, covered only because rocks adorned the side, were more tracks as if something heavy had forced itself over the sand. Slowly he moved forward, crouched just slightly, steps almost silent and when he rounded the corner -

A Mordrem. A Mordrem Guard.

It looked up at him, moss-green eyes that were shaded dark at the edges pleading with him. The creature sat on the ground, weapon discarded at it’s side, and it opened its mouth, jaw twitching as if it intended to speak.

“Tivon?” 

“It’s…” Tivon barely dared to glance over at Braham. “It’s a Mordrem.”

Braham moved faster than Tivon had anticipated, storming down the slope the last few meters and crossing them in an  _ instant _ , raising his mace with an expression that was etched with determination and fury. Tivon lifted his hand upward to pacify him and stood in his way.

“Wait, wait!” He supplicated and Braham looked like he might shove him aside, but the Norn halted, waiting for an explanation. “It’s... _ He  _ doesn’t appear hostile.”

“Yet.” Braham argued and Taimi chirped,

“Yeah, what’s your point?”

“The...Mordremoth’s call is quieter down here.” Tivon studied their expressions carefully, afraid of their reaction. “Maybe he sought refuge… maybe…” He locked eyes with Braham, “maybe there’s something left inside.”

“Highly unlikely,” Jory noted from behind and Braham rolled his shoulders.

“Then let’s just crack it open and find out.” The Norn made to push past Tivon again and he saw the nervous twitch of the Mordrem from the corner of his eyes and stemmed his hand against Brahams chest, keeping him back. 

“Let me talk to him.”

“ _ Talk? _ ” Taimi asked disbelievingly. 

“Tivon,” Jory stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed, “it’s a  _ Mordrem _ .”

Before Tivon could continue to argue the Mordrem  _ spoke _ , startling them from their argument. “I...I can’t tell what’s happening,” He whispered and Tivon turned to look at him and saw the wide, hugely blown eyes. “Please, help me.”

That, there... _ There  _ was a  _ sylvari  _ in there, one that had succumbed, faded... Tivon turned away completely and saw that BRaham tried to catch his arm, but he avoided his grasping fingers nimbly and took the last few steps toward the Mordrem, Braham stomping right after him. 

“Brother,” Tivon breathed and knelt down timidly, laying the staff onto the ground beside him, right in his reach. “What...happened?”

“The call. The call it was…” The Mordrem made a choked noise like a sob, “It was such a  _ relief _ , giving in. Such a  _ relief _ . I didnt…” He looked up, moss-green, corrupted eyes meeting Tivon’s, “I didn’t want to fight anymore.”

The voice distorted, deeper, darker, turning into...into...and the Mordrem smiled hugely, revealing a row of sharp, ivory teeth. “Don’t fight.” It said, but the voice… Tivon couldn’t turn his head, couldn’t move a single finger. A cold crept into his limbs, the edges of his vision blurring with darkness, and he realized with a spark of stark fear that this wasn’t real, that this was one of the conjured scapes Mordremoth used to confuse them.

_ “Don’t fight it, Keeper.” _

Not real.

_ “It will be a relief,”  _

Not real.

_ “All must serve me,” _

_ Not  _ real.

“ _ All will.” _

Tivon squeezed his eyes shut tightly and turned his head away, concentration, pushing Mordremoth out, away, focussing on that flicker of his magic, the astral power that he could tab into, and with a snap the connection broke and Tivon was back in reality…

And the Mordrem continued to speak, eyes wide, pleading, and Tivon had barely heard a word it had said. A bile rose in his throat and he realized that if Mordremoth could reach  _ him  _ here, then…

There was no refuge. Every respite, every moment of reprieve only another part of psychological warfare, to keep up tension, to show the powers extended and reached further than Tivon had thought.

“ My strings were tugged and my body acted while I watched. A passenger to the dragon's breath, its whispers.” The Mordrem said, eyes never leaving Tivon as he stood and straightened. This Mordrem...was it just a ploy, then, to lower his guard? Did it know, or was it unwillingly a servant still? A pretense and no more.

Mordremoth was showing its power. Was showing how far it reached, and how very little Tivon could do in face of that kind of supremacy. All that he could do was close off his mind, be vigilant, adamant, strong in body and mind. 

His eyes hardened slightly and he lifted his chin, “Do you still feel it’s pull?” Tivon asked and the Mordrem’s eyes widened and it answered with sickening devotion.

“Yes. I do.”

“What does it want?”

“It— It—” The Mordrem seemed uncertain for a moment, iris flicking left and right as if lost in rapid thought and then a rabid, malicious smile curled the edges of its mouth. “It wants  _ you _ .” Tivon felt a shiver travel over his spine and didn’t stop him when Braham moved forward.

“That’s enough.” The Norn said and lifted his mace into the air and brought it down with a loud, resounding cracking noise. Tivon averted his eyes and stumbled side-ways, feeling... _ sick _ . 

“Tiv, Tiv, hey.” It was Taimi, Scruffy’s footsteps normally so deafeningly loud even a mole could hear them, but now Tivon startled and sheepishly avoided her worried eyes. “Hey, are you OK?”

“It keeps doing that.” Jory noticed matter-of-factly, but she drew closer as well, following after Kas’ gilded trail closer to Tivon’s side, and he was grateful for their companionship, “Mordremoth lures us with hope...and snatches it away with it’s foul, manipulating clutches.”

Tivon waved his hand into the air, gathering his bearings, “I’m fine. That...attack just caught me off-guard.”

“Atta- Oh.” Kas grasped the meaning of what he’d said. Tivon took a deep, serrated breath. He had played right into Mordremoth’s hands, hadn’t he? By coming here, by talking to the Mordrem, by lowering the shield around his mind just a  _ moment  _ because of sympathy and pity. 

He...did not regret that. Sympathy, empathy, pity… Mordremoth might try to exploit them, but Tivon would not become a monster to defeat one.  _ I will not become akin to you,  _ Tivon thought defiantly. 

There was only a rumble in the earth, a deep, vibrating chuckle that answered.  _ Keeper,  _ the earth seemed to echo and reverberate, but if anyone else heard they did not show it. 

“Come on,” Tivon beckoned them and made a few steps as sternly as he could, trying to appear confident, at least more so than he felt. 

“If you need to take a break—” Kas offered and Tivon smiled at her weakly and shook his head.

“No, Mordremoth has already too many advantages. We must press on.”

“Alright.” 

Taimi caught up with him, Scruffy's robotic arms swinging in pendulum-like movements at the overlarge magitech body. “This is all so exciting,” she could not contain the enthusiasm in her voice, “Do you think we’ll meet other asura?”

“I’m not sure.” Tivon answered honestly, staff boring into the sand at his side with each step. “Tizlak said the city is long dead.”

“That may be,” Taimi’s eyes sparkled when they finally reached the exit of the cave, a much larger cave pocket opening before that, strangely enough, had some sort of light source because the ground lightened in an artificial blue glow. “But we asura build to last.”

“Colleague of Statistics.”

“Oh,” she sounded pleased, “You do pay attention.”

“Second-grade expert,” Tivon joked.

“About time something I say sticks,” she teased back, but her gasp was indication enough for the overwhelming wonder and awe that overwhelmed her not a moment later. 

Buildings of asuran design lay scattered throughout the large pocket of the cave, the distant hum having grown louder. Everything seemed awfully still and quiet, as if still slumbering in a dormant, undisturbed sleep. The city was shut down, not even one sign of electricity or power surging through the buildings or the cables assembled in large and thick matrixes of wire. 

But the longer Tivon let his gaze wander there was no sign of a single living soul, and the fact that the asura had indeed perished or fled became certainty. “It seems Tizlak was right.” Tivon murmured. “I’m sorry Taimi.”

“Such a pity. All those asura.”

“Maybe no new allies, but there is something else here.” Braham crouched down b a pair of dark footprints. “I'm picking up some prints that are definitely not asura. Looks like they belong to…”

“Uh, those?” Tivon nodded toward where strange shell-creatures borrowed from the ground to the surface and Frostbite and Kota were already charging into them as if defending their territory. 

“Oh.” Braham made. “Yeah. Those.”

“Chack!” Taimi called and for a moment Tivon wondered if perhaps it was a cry like Braham used to make, but it became clear that that was what they were called. “I’ve read about them! Watch out for their acid.”

“Acid?” Kas asked for clarification while Taimi moved Scruffy with thundering steps toward a device and began modifying it. 

“Mh-hm.” Taimi made, clearly too engrossed to even have heard properly and Braham gave a grunt when one of these Chack swarmed toward them. It was about the size of his boot and he kicked it with ease, sending it skittering along the ragged stone surface where it made a surprised gawking sound and scrambled to its feet to disappear into the darkness. “Makes sense the chak are here. This place is a nexus for ley energy. I speculate these things actually channel it somehow.”

“You made it sound like it is supposed to make sense.” Jory corrected. 

“Oh, right. I forgot.” 

“Forgot what?” Kas asked curiously and chuckled while she watched Frostbite and Kota chase the Chak away. 

“That while I was  _ telling  _ you about my findings in the data-base, I was actually just talking to myself.” 

“Alright, smart-pants,” Braham turned toward her, “What do we do about this place?”

“We need to find where they conducted their Dragon research.” Tivon pondered loud, “How do we do that?”

“Oh, good,  _ someone  _ is using their brains around here.” Before Braham could retort Taimi continued, “Maybe if we power up the city, Scruffy could trace the biggest energy draw. Logically, it should be the hub of their research.”

“And....how do we restore power to this place?”

It was a bit unnerving how her eyes began to sparkle with glee. “They had a different procedure for refining ley energy and using it for power. This thing,” She patted the strange device she was playing with just a few moments ago, “is an off-line ley collector. We could manually turn enough of them on to get the juice flowing, but the chak will notice and come running.”

“Hmpf.” Braham rolled his shoulders and built a bulwark of muscle and brawn between where he assumed the Chak to come from and Taimi. “Let’s hope they are enough of a challenge to keep me sharp for Mordremoth.”

“I've got good news for you if you're itching for a fight.” Taimi chirped happily, “The more of these we turn on, the more chak they'll attract. So yeah... Math! Deadly math!”

“And...do we have a plan on how to stop them from coming through?” Tivon wondered as the buzzing behind him announced that Taimi had worked the first generator. The steps of Scruffy behind them seemed to almost jump in elation. 

“With enough energy we’ll start up life-support systems and defenses!” Taimi replied gleefully, and then, so lowly Tivon almost missed it, “I hope.”

“You—” Tivon was about to turn when Kota gave a surprised chirp and was tackled by a Chack. Frostbite came immediately to his aide and more and more Chack streamed from the ground, rushing toward where Taimi was powering up the generators. 

Tivon lifted his hand and summoned a wall of vines that charged up into the air behind them, keeping Taimi safely behind it. Then, with his hand aloft he twisted his wrist down and formed the all-too-familiar tether between himself and Braham, giving the Norn an encouraging nod.

When the tether buzzed to life it was a string of electricity that forked between them and illuminated their features in an abrupt flash of lights that flickered over their bodies. Tivon was caught off-guard by the sudden highlight, the light like a spotlight, and he saw Braham’s contours and the mesmerizing blue of his eyes reflecting brightly, meeting his own. 

There was a lurch in his chest, he felt weightless for a single second as if he was hovering in the air just a second before falling, brain short-circuiting.

_ Oh.  _

That was all. Just a single expression, just a single word, just that. It stunned him into silence that lasted only the breath of a second, and yet,  _ and yet - _

Braham shifted, forearm muscles tensing and fingers curling tighter around his maze and he looked, watched,  _ locked _ . 

“A little help over here!” Rox called and Tivon felt as if he’d been hit by an airblast, lungs suddenly deprived of any oxygen and he turned away, trying to hide how breathless he’d become. 

_ Oh _ . 

Braham brushed past him toward the front into the frey and didn’t cast him another glance. 

 

***

 

What. 

Just—

_ What.  _

The spell was nothing new, an old trick so to speak, yet there was a strength and force behind how it tangled with his skin, entwined with his muscles, wove into the tissue beneath into him,  _ through him _ , giving him a spike of vigour and warmth and - 

His heart gave out only the once, and then it raced. Tivon was looking up at him, green eyes glowing in the dark, no, whole pattern glowing, skin alight with rivers of gold that trailed over crevices in his bark. The Druid opened his mouth, plum lips parting, but no word came out and Braham’s eyes wanted to look, he  _ wanted to- _

_ Spirits.  _

Was that the spell? When had it become quite so powerful? No, no. It wasn’t that, not at all. The revelation of that - long coming as it had been - was enough to spring his instinct to flee the answer screaming in his face. He jumped at the opportunity to tear away and rushed to help Rox, the strength coming to life in his muscles easily and eager for the promised action.

If only his heart didn’t beat so erratically, not quite so strongly...that in itself an ache deep in his chest. He raised his arm and pulled it over his head, crashing the giant mace down against the Chak’s shell with a loud cracking noise and Rox nodded toward him gratefully, an arrow poised between her fingers and pulling it deftly into the string of her bow. 

“More incoming!” She called and Braham glanced back to where Tivon stood, and yeah, there it was again. The sudden stand-still of his heart and then it speed up, and all because he was  _ looking _ .

Spirits, what had brought this on? That was just—

That was  _ just _ —

Tivon had been focussed on Kas’s back, a streamline of gilded light forming from the tip of his staff, its golden lines weaving easily around Kas’s body making her glow glamorously as well as protecting her from a spread of acid that splattered as Jory slashed a Chak open and when he lifted his staff the line held for a moment, following the movement before dispersing into sparks and then green eyes met his own and that was-

It was unfair. 

Tivon seemed just as equally startled, just as equally sheepish and he gulped and turned his head away and Braham was left with his thoughts, with his mind that screamed in his head for the obvious truth he’d somehow managed to ignore. 

Tivon...he  _ liked  _ Tivon. 

But instead of feeling elated, instead of feeling relieved at the revelation he felt...angry. The unfortunate Chak were a catalysator to that wrath, mace swishing through the air with brute force that was nothing short of wild. 

Each strike it echoed in his head  _ Not fair, not fair, not fair,  _ and when the sound of Taimi’s voice pierced through, “C'mon, you stupid—There! Finally.”

There’s a low thrum that reverberates through the ground, but other than the noise and the slight tremble in the earth there is no evidence that what she’s done is working. The Chak have apparently issued a retreat for now, and Braham would have liked to let off some more steam. 

“How much longer Taimi?” He asked and turned around to witness as Tivon slowly lowered the wall of vines and revealed Taimi who came strutting toward them with Scruffy. 

“Still multiple collectors left before the city turns on.” 

“If the power is down, where's this light coming from?” Tivon asked, head craned and green eyes surveilling the hollowed ceiling of the cave.

“I wondered the same thing!” Taimi nearly burst out, “And the Rata Novans had quite an answer! The fixtures above us are actually clusters of optic cables that run up to the surface.They carry natural light down below. No power needed.”

Tivon’S eyes never left the round shaped collectors that offered some semblance of light. Weak as it was it was warm and gave the impression that this place was not amidst the Maguuma Jungle at all. “All the way down here, and you still get daylight.”

Braham’s eyes lingered. Not on the light, not on the design, not on the strange generator that Taimi had fixed. 

“It's ingenious! I hope we get to see how they solved one of the underground ventilation problems. It could revolutionize all future asuran construction!”

Tivon chuckled at her enthusiasm and Braham finally tore his eyes away, grip around the handle to his mace tightening. Never had he thought this would be the twist of fate his life that awaited him — and he had a couple too many in just a the last few rough days. Getting to know his mother and her mission, understanding why she had left and finally,  _ finally  _ accepting what had happened only to be bereft of his chance to ever form the family he had always wanted.

And now... _ this _ .

“Braham, are you OK?” Rox asked, a tad too loud for Braham’s liking because they all glanced at him now, and suddenly the city seemed to stifle and choke him where he stood. 

“Fine,” he grumbled out, caring little if he sounded OK or not. 

“Just a few more and we'll have enough power to get any of the surviving systems up and running.” Taimi chirped and was already moving on to the next one. 

“And then?” Tivon asked and Braham stared pointedly at the ground in front of him, ignoring the Druid when he passed by his peripheral vision. 

“Scruffy will allow me to track where all this power is headed.”

Braham followed, footsteps thumping on the ground, and Rox glanced sideways at him with furrowed eyebrows. Could things not ever just be simple? Just... _ once _ ? 

As if the universe was mocking him there were no Chak making any appearances as Taimi started the last generators, and Braham all but glared at the sand beneath his feat wrathfully as if it was somehow to blame. 

“The chak's connection to ley energy is curious. I wonder if it could be employed against Mordremoth.” Jory pondered aloud behind them. 

“Going after the Rata Novan research is one thing. We can't waste time studying them now.” Braham carped impatiently.

“Braham, no one has ever wasted time studying.” Taimi snickered. “Now that we started the engine, I'm getting a sizable power signature—might be a lab. Follow me and the big guy!”

For a moment Braham thought he was supposed to be the big guy and lifted his head, only to notice that Tivon was looking at him as if he has assumed the very same. The Druid’s pattern gave a soft flare as if embarrassed and Tivon turned away, muttering,

“Ah, Scruffy. I get it.” Tivon followed Taimi and avoided Braham’s eyes with an inclination of his head, hurrying after the golem. 

They all followed the steady, rhythmic  _ thump  _ of Scruffy’s long metal legs, the path leading up into a slope. The sand dispersed and parted to reveal the familiar patterns of stone and magitech that decorated the walls, conductors with lightning blue energy sizzling along the way as they went. There was the occasional scrap of a Chuk coming from close-by, but none dared to oppose them again. Perhaps they were mustering a greater force, if they even had the intelligence for such a thing. Braham sure was itching to crush something right now.

The path lead left und up a pair of stairs that hugged the side of the waill with no railing, either long decayed and fallen away or never built in the first place, offering view of the next floor. Pillars held the ceiling up, some of them having caved in into small heaps of debris. Blue crystals rested in between them, the purpose both to offer light and a choice of design.

“We’re almost right on top of the source!” Taimi squealed and gained a burst of speed, Scruffy running toward the sole left destination that was just around the corner to the right. She gaped, “It’s an asura gate! Dissimilar in design, but probably similar in function.”

They all approached warily, eyes looking over the rings and its design. “Is it active? Why isn't it glowing if we turned on the power?” Braham asked and moved around it. 

“Good question.Let me see.” Taimi was already in front of the panel, Scruffy’s arms lifted to press buttons with soft beeping noises. “Uh, okay. Good news, bad news. Good news is there's enough power to turn this gate on. Bad news is, something's interrupting the flow. Something...big.”

“Something...big?” Tivon echoed and as if his words had conjured it, the ground gave a violent shake, the walls trembled and a cracking noise announced that something was pushing through from the other side, barely a fraction of a second before a massive creature stumbled through, scattering stone and rubble as it regained its balance on its long, shelled legs. 

“I think we found the culprit.” Braham glared, eager for a fight. He was itching for it, itching to have something to vent out his anger on and he charged in with a loud, roaring cry, mace and shield raised. The Chak turned toward him and stormed in his direction, body large enough to pass over Braham and large, long legs moving with such infuriating speed that Braham’s mace swished through the air, hitting nothing. The long, secreting appendix left a trail on the ground that left a sharp, acid-like stench in the air and the creature was stopped in its charge when Scruffy’s arms shot out, punching it square in what Braham guessed to be its face.

Fazed and dazed the creature shook its head and gave a high-pitched wail and Jory’s greatsword sliced through one of its legs, cutting it neatly. The whole body shifted to the altered distribution of weight and it tried to regain its balance and stepped sideways. Tivon lunged forward and rolled aside, turning nimble with his staff raised and lifted his hand, a sharp vine piercing the creature from beneath and through its soft stomach. 

Braham charged forward once again, chagrined to have contributed absolutely nothing, and cleaved with the mace at the creatures side. Despite it being well protected by a thick shell it cracked under the force of his strike, a stream of blue following the trail of his mace. When the creature threatened to falter it caught itself on its still intact legs and Braham whirled around, mace swinging and shield bashing against the creature with a reverberating crunch. 

The creature turned around wildly and its strange tail hit Braham square in the chest and sent him flying through the air. For a moment he felt weightless, then something crashed against his back and shattered and his body sunk to the ground. 

His vision was slightly blurred and he blinked, saw his legs, his hands-

“Braham!” A voice cried and he looked up, confused, then something cracked behind him and he turned his head. The pillar collapsed when the crystal holding it steadily broke due to Braham’s body impacting with it and tilted, falling slowly, ever so slowly-

Well, if that wasn’t a way to go. 

He gaped, not even a single sound escaping him — he saw it right in front of him, how the pillar would crash onto him, over his head, cracking him hopen easily like an egg, and at least he would go with some dignity intact, at least he would—

The pillar fell and Braham held his eyes open, defied his body when it wanted to reflexively close his eyes and a flash of blue and silver caught his eyes, the ground beside him burst open and vines shot from the ground, sharp tips piercing into the pillar atop his head and holding, bending and then the pillar jerked to a halt with an aching groan of stone and Braham lowered his gaze.

Scruffy - no, not Scruffy,  _ Taimi -  _ held the pillar atop her head and with a puff of air she threw the pillar over to the side where it crashed against the ground, scattering into many greater pieces of stone. Dust rose into the air and Braham coughed as he raised himself onto his feet, his hand bracing against what remained of the pillar and he noticed, dazed, that his grip on his weapons must have loosened because neither his shield nor mace were in his grasp. 

He was squinting through the veil of thick grey when Tivon suddenly burst through, mouth open, eyes wider than normally and he came to an abrupt, skittering halt in front of Braham. Green eyes gandered his arms, chest, neck, up until they met his own and Braham could see the worry, the fear written all over his features, and—

_ Spirits _ , just what had they done to deserve this? 

“Braham,” Tivon choked out and Braham was not sure if it was the dust or emotion that seemed to strangle Tivon’s throat, “Are you OK?”

The vines...the voice...Braham held back a shiver. Both had been Tivon’s. He’d been so angry at himself he had neglected to be careful, and almost…

Braham had the most foolish thought. It was barely a vivid image in his head, newly formed and it sent a spark of warmth through him right before the spiral of confusion set in. He had lifted his hand almost absent-mindedly, had  _ almost  _ lifted it to cup Tivon’s cheek and his palm hovered there for a split second, long enough for Tivon to realize what the motion was  _ supposed  _ to do when Braham let his hand fall atop Tivon’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, the thrum of his heart beating high in his throat, “I’m fine.”

Tivon smiled at him with relief and placed his hand atop his own and inclined his head, murmuring, “I’m glad.”

What was he supposed to do with this? How was he...what was he… He didn’t  _ know _ what to do. So all he did was stare as Tivon stared pointedly at the ground until the Druid dragged in some much needed air and gave a nervous laugh, 

“Well, uh, the portal’s-”

“Ready whenever.” Taimi chirped and when Braham looked up he noticed that all of them, Jory, Kas, Rox and Taimi were watching them with a mixture of glee and mirth. 

Braham pulled his hand away as if he’d been struck by lightning, feeling the warmth spread into his cheeks. Spirits, he had rarely ever been so embarrassed in all his life. 

Tivon moved beside Taimi, “Where does it go?”

“It must lead deeper into this complex. We should test it out; make sure it's safe.” She grinned down at Tivon and the Druid blinked once, twice, before he understood he was to be the lab-rat. 

“Ah,” he made, “I suppose I can-”

Braham strode past him, picking up his mace and shield on the way and moved through the portal without heeding any of their protests. After the strange, hollowed out feeling left his stomach he blinked into the near-darkness and lifted his shield as a precaution, the purple light thrown by the only light source except for the round conductors attached to the wall that were shaped as pipes. 

The portal rippled behind him and the others passed through.

“Great job not getting obliterated, Braham!” Taimi chirped happily. “I told you that gate would—”

The light flickered, stuttered and then blinked out of existence and Braham raised his shield, offering and shedding a little bit of blue light, the raise of his eyebrow visible. 

Taimi gave a nervous chuckle, “I hope no one was planning on going back that way…”

“Where are we?” Tivon asked and Braham felt the Druid brush his arm when he came to stand beside him. 

“There's a huge ley draw ahead of us. I'd bet my transverse wave inverter it's the dragon lab.”

Braham did not even bother asking what that was and followed Taimi toward the large array of see-through windows that allowed sight into what looked like a large laboratory, but crawling over the entire floor were Chak, skittering across. Frostbite and Kota gave hostile hisses at the sight, and Rox made a  _ shh _ to keep them quiet.

“Wolf’s fang.” Braham cursed under his breath when the light seemed to flicker alive in the lab, illuminating the sheer amount of Chak that had infested it. 

“This isn't a lab to them. It's a dining hall.” Taimi noticed grimly.

“Wait, the emblem on that door.” Tivon pointed and all their eyes followed where his finger showed.

“A dragon!” Taimi gasped, gloom forgotten. “That must be it!”

“We need to get through that mess and open that lab.” Braham noticed and Tivon looked from the window to the yet locked door, eyes following the conduits until he sighed.

“Can’t.” Tivon nodded toward the wall where the pipe was discontinued by a large gap, both ends separated by a good arm’s length. At the base of the wall lay a large chunk of stone that must have crashed down and separated the flow of energy. 

“So, we're trapped here? The only other way out was through the gate that just exploded?” Braham looked at Taimi for answers and she shrugged her shoulders sheepishly,

“Maybe? Probably. Yes.” 

“So...we’re trapped?” Kas murmured, looking back and fro between the gate and the door. 

“Oh! Hold on…” Taimi marched toward where the two conduits were discontinued. “Ley energy powers this whole place, and this ley conduit is blown. It almost certainly rendered the doors to this room and the lab inoperative when it went. If we can complete the circuit, they'll both open for sure!”

“But how?” Tivon asked with a frown. 

“I have a thought. Scruffy can bridge the gap. The ley tech I outfitted him with should conduct the energy.”

“But,” Tivon stepped closer gingerly, locking eyes with the asura seated in her golem, “will he survive?”

“Well, I'm not sure…”

“Taimi, back at Dry Top when the Innquest destroyed Scruffy and almost captured you... I can't—”

“You can't what?” She interrupted sharply, “Let a child make her own decisions? I'm not a child and this is what I'm doing. Maybe I wasn't ready for it at Dry Top, but I'm ready now.”

Tivon looked like he might protest, mouth opening before he closed it and gave a resigned sigh. “Alright. Then...we’ll deal with the Chak.”

“I have an idea for that too, but first things first.” Taimi took a deep breath and then glanced at Tivon, “Better step back.”

Tivon did, expression thoughtful and once again full of worry, and it took all Braham had not to walk over there and place his hand atop his shoulder again. Spirits, how easy it seemed. The idea formed so firmly, so familiar that he forced himself to walk toward Scruffy instead and helped Taimi climb out of her golem. Her tiny hands lingered on the golem’s outer shell for a moment and she gave Scruffy and encouraging nod - which was strange in itself because the golem was a machine, a program - and then they both too stepped back.

“All right, big guy, it's time. You know what to do.” She murmured and Scruffy made a step, two, and then stopped.

“Why did he stop?” Braham asked.

“Go on. It's okay. I'll be okay.” Taimi told Scruffy and the golem turned away and resumed its course. 

Scruffy extended its arms and spread them wide, metallic fingers curling around the cut conduit ends and formed a bridge between them. The energy flowed wildly, sparkling and sizzling with an intense heat before the plan seemed to work. The doors stuttered and then opened, and Scruffy was caught between the lines, metallic body shaking violently before the golem collapsed against the wall. 

Braham almost missed Taimi’s teary eyes. He knelt down beside her and noticed that she tried to hide it, a gulp bulging her throat and then she took a deep breath. 

“When,” she began and wiped at her eyes briskly before she looked up at Tivon, “when you were young, do you remember the bad kids burning beetles with a magnifying lens?”

“I’ve heard the stories,” Tivon admitted, “why?”

“Because I'm about to be bad.” Braham could hear her smiling. “The device in that room is basically a huge telescope. I can reconfigure all the lights in there to feed into the lenses, turning it into a giant heat ray!”

“And then we have ourselves a chak cookout. Brilliant.”, Braham grinned and she beamed up at him gratefully. 

Tivon stepped through the door, weighing his staff in his hand with a thoughtful expression. “I think I can form a bridge across.” he murmured. 

_ Brilliant, the two of them.  _

“Jory, Braham, Rox and Kas, you hold off the Chak that’ll come streaming up the stairs.” Tivon instructed and lifted his hand, arm trembling slightly. The effort it took Tivon was visible in the way his face twisted in concentration, eyes focussed entirely on the destination that was bridged by nothing but air. The vines sprouted from the ground out of completely nowhere, spreading and entangling around the railing to the steps and shooting out across to where the stairs lead upward to the panels of the instrument, hooking into the platform like spearguns. More and more spread out, entwining and knotting around each other until a firm bridge of vines had formed and Tivon gave a tight nod. ”Alright, ready.”

“We’ll hurry.” Kas encouraged him and Tivon gave her a warm smile in return. They climbed the railing and atop the vine bridge, and Braham gave Tivon another glance before he followed them. 

“Go on,” Tivon said and Braham did as he was told, if a bit reluctant to leave the sylvari behind. It was clear that a spell of such strength needed to be channeled, that Tivon needed all his strength and focus just for the upkeep of the bridge, and that he couldn’t follow them. 

They reached the other side and even though the Chak seemed to have noticed them, they seemed in no hurry to swarm or prey upon them. The stairs remained empty as Taimi configured the machine, the lenses moving and forming up atop one another. 

“How much longer Taimi?” Braham asked, eyes scanning over the staircase, but the Chak seemed happy to stay on the ground, skittering and rushing across. 

“Almost got it,” she murmured absent-mindedly, “but we’ll…” She cut herself off, either too lost in thought or too caught up to notice she hadn’t finished that sentence. 

“We’ll…?” Braham gleaned and Taimi made a triumphant squeak that startled him before she rushed to where the vines connected with the stairs, Tivon still standing on the other side. 

“Tivon, lure them under the beam!”

Say what? 

Tivon retracted his hand, vines snapping from the stairs and falling down toward the ground with a loud slapping noise. The Druid glanced at the Chak below and at the lenses that were lined up for a fiery beam and gave a curt nod. 

“Alright,” Tivon called back and his hand gripped one of the vines still attached to the railing on his side and jumped over the side, sliding down with both fearsome and breath-taking speed before his feet tapped on the ground that was swarmed and filled with Chak. 

“Taimi—” Braham breathed in protest and her elbow, small as she was, nudged his shin.

“He’ll be fine.”

Tivon made to dash and his body was engulfed in a gilded light before he transformed into a small wisp of light, gliding through the air with a slosh of golden light trailing behind and over the masses of Chak that turned in utter confusion until Tivon stumbled onto the platform where the laser was pointing. The scramble and rumble of hundred of Chak feet was deafening, the ground shaking and even atop from where Braham had to watch he could feel the vibrations. 

“Taimi—” Braham protested again, but the small asura was already tapping away at the panel, eyeing Tivon’s position with a side-glance. The Chak swarmed across the platform, swarming to  _ Tivon _ , and Braham felt his heart stop, “Taimi!”

There was a buzz, a vibrant boom, and a blinding light and then immense, streaming heat. The platform beneath was engulfed in a sharp laser that made the platform glow and the scent of scorched flesh rose into the air, the Chak’s wailing cries barely audible over the roaring gushing of the searing laser. 

When there was no longer any movement below Braham couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. Taimi had, she had- 

“We got them!” A voice called from below and Braham let his eyes wander, searching, and then he saw Tivon brushing over the leaves of his armour, barely even a scratch on him. Some leaves were singed at the edges and a branch atop his head looked scorched but other than that -

_ How?  _

“That... was amazing,” Braham admitted breathlessly, eyes never leaving and knowing very well that Tivon couldn’t see him and that the Druid couldn’t hear him, but Taimi did. She threw him a toothy grin.

“Told you.”

“It smells better than I would have imagined too,” Jory admitted with a chuckle.

They descended the stairs and met Tivon at the door to the Dragon Lab, and close up Braham saw more details of Tivon’s not quite unscathed encounter with the laser. Various stems were still smoldering and the Druid was busy quenching them with his fingers, giving Braham a sheepish grin. 

Something about  _ “Look who is smoldering hot”  _ nearly escaped his lips and thank the Spirits it didn’t. “How did you get away?” 

Tivon brushed a leaf flat against his thigh, small bits of ashes scattering at his feet, and as he leaned forward Braham saw that more of Tivon’s hair was slightly blackened by the flame and smoke. “Wisp,” Tivon answered and slowly straightened. “Is this it then?”

Taimi pressed the panel at the door and it slid open, revealing a pair of stairs that lead to a variety of tables, panels and large screens that filled the entirety of the wall. “Boot up these machines and we'll find out.” Taimi murmured, her eyes already trained on the many consoled and they approached warily. Except for a few lights that shone from above and came from the conduits at the side the room was still dark until Taimi started the machines up. 

Nobody dared to interrupt as she scanned over the various screen, her eyes flying from one place to the next and her fingers flickering over the panel too fast to follow. When at last she lifted her head she murmured, “Whoa, these Rata Novans had a serious beef against Primordus.”

“Anything on Mordremoth?” Tivon stepped closer and glanced over the screens.

“No. Well... Sort of. It's about all the Elder Dragons. Based on their extensive research on Primordus, the Rata Novans determined that each Elder Dragon had a weakness. A unique respective weakness.”

“And does it say...?” Braham gleaned. 

“What it is? No.”

Braham sighed. “How easily the fleet went down. So what do we do now?

It was Tivon who spoke up, “This is good news, people.” He insisted, eyes gleaming with determination, “We've been charging headlong against Mordremoth not even knowing if it can be beaten, only knowing we had to beat it. Now we know it's possible. We only have to find out how. Thanks to that ley map, we know exactly where it is.” Tivon’s enthusiasm and grin were contagious and Braham grinned back.

“Let's catch up with the others, then. I suppose it'd be nice to have some help finding this weakness.” Braham glanced at Taimi, “Does this mean I have to carry you around now?”

“No!” She protested vehemently as if the thought alone was horrifying in some way, “Oh, no. I already have design plans for Scruffy two-point-zero! Little trim here, little tuck there, and weapons—lots of weapons. But no golem for the immediate future means this is the end of the road for me. I'll be staying in Rata Novus with all this delectable research—bummer!” 

Tivon looked worried, “Alone? Are you sure?”

“Hey, would you ask Rytlock if he was sure? Or the Commander?” It was clear from Tivon’s face that he wouldn’t.

“Should we send word to someone back at Rata Sum, let them know you're here?” 

Taimi looked as if she was chewing on something bitter, “Uh... No, thanks. I'll take care of that...in, like, a few weeks or so.”

Tivon chuckled, “Don’t want to get Phlunted again?”

“Not particularly,” Taimi admitted with a grin.

“Then...take care, Taimi. Be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Taimi waved with her hand, clearly exasperated and unable to take more of Tivon’s worry, “Give the dragon a good one for me.”

A chill went over Braham’s spine when Tivon answered, “I will. For all of us.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tivon and Braham finally getting it eh? But don't worry, you know me by now. However fluff this chapter feels, it'll go downhill from here.  
> Whoops. Spoiler? *nervous laughter*  
> Anyway, time to grab your helmets, strap into your seats, grab your safety goggles and clip on your working boots.  
> The final ride is starting.


	62. Bitter Harvest Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies,  
> it's been so very long. After my exams, I moved and life has been good, and I have been struggling slightly to get this chapter done. Big thumbs up to Lamshire for pulling me through this one and helping me with it. Maybe it's just that the end of HoT is drawing so very near that I don't want to finish it? Haha.  
> Anyway, go ahead now, I am sure you're curious to read (not my ramblings though :D )  
> Have fun!

Derwen let his eyes wander, the jungle having becoming more dense, but not in a normal, tropical manner. Around them were vines  larger than the bark of trees, sharp thorns adorning the edges and ready to impale those unsuspecting ones that dared venture too close. 

Ever since the Commander had learned that Trahearne and the others - who obviously were not quite as much on the Commander’s mind as the firstborn was -  were due south (as he had told him truthfully) they had headed in that direction straight, carving a path through the jungle with the Charr’s flaming sword and the wrath pervading the air around the Commander in an answering hiss of his Shroud. 

It had been one day, not that long, since they had parted ways, but the distance between them and Tivon was growing shorter and shorter. Derwen could feel it in the buzz surrounding the spell of  Tivon’s necklace and glanced over his shoulder, expecting the group of misfits to emerge from the thicket, but once again he had been too eager, and this time Rytlock actually snarled,

“What’s got you so twitchy?”

Derwen gave a crooked smile in answer, not deigning to answer. Sgileas glared at him and the whole party came to a halt, the air filling with an almost familiar chill. “Answer.” Sgileas demanded and Derwen gave a dramatic sigh. 

“The others will be catching up with us soon.”

Sgileas eyes narrowed into purple slits, and Derwen once again had to admit that in a feral, wild and unapproachable way the Commander had a charm that was hard to miss - if easily  _ dismissed  _ by his clear disinterest and apathy toward others not aligned with his goal. Poor Canach. Derwen held back his smirk at the thought of what Canach would look like when he found out just how close Trahearne and Sgileas were. 

“How soon?”

Derwen was quiet for a moment, focussing on the band the spell created, weaving in between him and the pendant that Tivon wore so freely and ignored that kind of possessive pleasure that he felt at that. “If we wait here, I assume only a few more minutes longer.”

Sgileas considered it for a moment before he straightened and nodded, “Very well. We wait.” The Necromancer stomped forward a few paces, solitary even amongst comrades, arms folded tightly over his chest. 

Derwen wondered idly what kind of wrath lay underneath all that bark, neatly hidden away from sight and view, and what Mordremoth would do if it was unleashed. 

 

***

 

Darkness. The sound of creaking, bending, curling of vines. Trahearne had his head hung low, upper body curved forward, arms dangling  limply from his shoulders. By the Pale Tree, he was tired. So very, very tired.

Mordremoth’s voice came almost like a lullaby, seeping into his head  unbidden , moving through the crevices of his mind that he did not have the strength to shield properly. Not after the many days of prodding into his mind, not after the torturous agony he’d somehow survived. 

His lower body was encased in a seed, a twisted abomination of what could have been the nightmare of a bloom, lifeless and unaccessible to him - so much so he might as well be without them.

“Son, my son,” Mordremoth drawled, “your body is a vessel, the  _ perfect  _ vessel.”

Trahearne blinked languidly, the only source of light shed through a curtain of gray and dust that lay like a sheet over his head. So dark. It was always so dark. 

“Give in, give in.” 

For a moment, brief and fleeting, Trahearne considered it, and Mordremoth slipped into his mind, cracking open his skull as if tearing him apart from the inside and he grit his teeth, groaning even though nobody could hear or see him struggle except for his captor. 

A feeling filled his chest, a feeling of... _ vastness _ . The world open beneath his feet, easily tread with his body, open to him, everything open and wide, just to him. Earth, ground, every wall, every house, every wall easily climbed by vines crawling through crevices of stone, making every foundation unstable, crumble, slowly erode and fall away…

Vines and thorns washing by in seas of green, the sky cast out by a canopy of the great jungle that crossed over the whole world, sinking toward its center, toward-

He halted. Hovered. Stilled.

He wasn’t in his body, not any longer. He could feel his body and mind slipping, could feel himself merging with parts of Mordremoth, his resolve still strong, but failing. 

And as he hovered over all that was Mordremoth’s, as he felt all those that walked upon Mordremoth’s earth… He saw and felt a figure pulsing powerfully like a flare in between it all. Trahearne felt Mordremoth struggle, wriggle as if attempting to pull away but Trahearne held on, trapping Mordremoth as much as the dragon had trapped him and searched wildly, scouring-

The figure in front of him squinted its eyes, noticing his presence and for the first time, Trahearne allowed himself to make a noise, a choked sob, and the figure’s eyes in front of him widened, the arms unfolded and then it whispered,

“Trahearne?”

“Sgileas.” Trahearne whispered, heart and soul tearing at the seams in elation. He was alive, he was alive, alive —

“Trahearne!” Sgileas reached out, unable to see him, the Necromancer could only  _ sense  _ him, and it was oh so cruel, but it was—

Pale Tree, he was  _ alive _ . 

Mordremoth gave a powerful yank, ripping free from Trahearne’s clench on the Dragon’s mind and the image shifted, he was pulled, pulled, through thorns and vines and back into his body with a gasp. 

“ _ Enough,”  _ the Dragon demanded, “Before long, you will all be mine.”

But Trahearne barely heard. He could have sworn to have felt the brush of Sgileas hand and he closed his eyes, imagining the warmth of his palm against his cheek. 

_ Alive,  _ his mind sang and Trahearne smiled a weary smile, warmth spreading through him.  _ He is alive.  _

 

***

 

“More like this,” Tivon took the bow and lifted it, standing still for a moment to show Braham how to place his fingers around the wood and Braham gave a nod before taking the bow back. He copied Tivon’s stance and Tivon nodded, “Yeah, and if you move now-”

Braham lunged forward, whirled around on the spot and had only a split second to aim before Kas’ illusion disappeared behind a wall of vines. His arrow flew, leaving a blue and fiery trail in its wake that had Tivon’s eyes growing wider in amazement, and when the arrow hit the illusion crackled and burst into flames before shattering. 

“Oh.” Tivon gaped and Braham straightened and looked over his shoulder, grinning at Tivon.

“Looks like I’ll get the gist of it yet.”

Tivon chuckled and moved to pluck the arrow from the vine it had latched into and glanced over at Rox when she yelled,

“They’re here! Come on!”

Tivon beckoned Braham and the norn walked abreast with him, closing the distance with a few certain strides and as they walked, Tivon held out his hand with the arrow for Braham to take. Braham lifted his hand and it hovered there for a moment before his warm, calloused fingers curled around Tivon’s own. 

The warmth was dizzying when it reached Tivon’s head and he averted his eyes, noticing as he glanced down at his forearm that his pattern flared just slightly. Braham’s eyes were still on him, mustering him, hand lingering atop his own, and then the Guardian raised his other arm to brush aside a large leaf that obscured their view ahead and Tivon blinked into the relative brightness. 

Rox, Kas and Jory had already moved ahead, discussing with the others and Tivon froze like a deer caught in a trap when he saw Derwen lift his head from the distance and staring at him, through him, piercing and sharper than any arrow. 

Derwen’s eyes squinted and hardened when he saw Braham’s hand curled around his own and the arrow and a deep pit opened in Tivon’s chest. For a moment he didn’t remember how to breathe and Braham pulled his fingers away, sliding the arrow easily from his grip. “Tiv?” He asked in a low voice and Tivon tried not to see Derwen in the periphery of his vision, but it was impossible. 

_ I love you.  _ _ I suffer as you do. It is fate that plays with us, but I will wait for you. _

“Tiv. Hey.” 

Tivon jerked back to reality and nodded with a tight throat. “Yeah.” When he looked up at Braham he saw that Braham’s eyes were furrowed into a worried frown, the blue of his eyes searching… “Yeah, I’m fine.” He finally managed. 

By the Pale Tree, he had all but forgotten Derwen and his confession. At first he’d been so conflicted, then he’d promised himself he would focus and when Braham had forgiven him…

He’d forgotten. Forgotten about Derwen because his mind had been filled with—

With—

_ Braham.  _

“Tivon!” Sgileas called sharply and Tivon flinched quite visibly, “Stop loitering. We must move on.”

Tivon hurried to comply, moving up the slope and feeling the burn of Derwen’s eyes on his shoulders, but did not dare look up. Braham’s presence was of very little comfort. “Yeah, sorry.”

Sgileas gave Braham behind him a sharp look before the Necromancer all but whirled around, a storm of ice and cold, the air permeated by the chill that rested in the air. “Tell me what you found.” He demanded and Tivon had trouble keeping up. 

“The asura in Rata Novus figured out that each Elder Dragon has a specific weakness, but we have to find it.”

“That does not sound helpful,” Canach noticed with a raised eyebrow. 

“It isn’t.” Sgileas agreed.

“But now we know they can be beaten!” Tivon defended himself, feeling somehow insulted. “Up until now-”

“Up until now, we’ve beaten one Elder Dragon, which already tells us that they can be beaten.” Sgileas interjected coolly, “It is not exactly news.”

Tivon closed his jaw. Sgileas did have a point there, even if he had been kind of proud to have boosted his friends in Rata Novus. 

“I wonder if Zojja or Logan knows anything about the dragon's weakness. Since they've been with the Mordrem this long.” Braham murmured thoughtfully somewhere behind him. 

“I have to say, I'm still a little surprised you'd consider that instead of just trying to bash it with your mace.” Canach chuckled.

“I'm not counting that out either.”

“Then let's stop wasting our breath. We have friends to save and a weakness to find!” Rytlock grumbled impatiently. 

“Ah, it's good to be back with you, Rytlock. I like the way tribunes think.” Tivon could hear  Braham’s smile.

“Derwen,” Sgileas ordered and Tivon couldn’t help but glance up, the Necromancer’s purple eyes looking toward the Mesmer somewhere behind him, “We’re on you.”

Derwen didn’t say a word. He did not have to. Tivon felt his presence as if it were etched into his skin and when Derwen passed him by it was with a calm that Tivon felt all the more striking.

What was he doing? 

He felt... _ guilty _ , and he didn’t know why. He remained quiet, head hung low like a struck puppy, trying to sort out the recurring mess of his life.

 

***

 

Braham noticed the change of Tivon’s demeanour the second they stepped out, the second that Tivon laid eyes on…

_ Him _ .

There was absolutely no denying that the simple  _ thought  _ of the sylvari managed to wake an anger that seemed like a primal force, bubbling and surfacing into a rage he could barely quench. Braham had seen what the bastard had done to Tivon, what it had pushed Tivon  _ into -  _

And he wouldn’t allow that to happen again. Once Mordremoth was defeated, he’d smash his grinning head in, and he knew he was not alone. 

Kas hated Derwen with an equal fire, and Rox, although she rarely spoke about it, shared his sentiment just as well. Nobody would stop them, and against them all, Derwen had no chance. 

The hours seemed to slow down into ennui, crawling by them. It was mostly quiet except for the occasional scratch of boots upon parched earth and the muttered “Thanks,” when one companion brushed apart the vine obscuring the path for the others to pass by. Rytlock’s blade served them well, cutting through the interwoven occasional road-blocks and leaving behind  scorched holes that allowed them to pass through until the path before them split and Derwen came to a halt.

“This is as far as I can lead you,” Derwen finally said and nodded toward a fork in the path, “the path splits here, but I can not tell where they lead.”

“What good are you then?” Sgileas hissed and Braham tensed his shoulders, felt a fight brewing, but Derwen wore his winning, cock-sure smile like he always did. 

“I am here to defeat Mordremoth,” Derwen demurred, “perhaps you have forgotten how to differentiate friend from foe.”

“If I ever mistook you for a friend, that would be the day I found a dagger stuck in my back.” 

“Perhaps,” Derwen amended, smile widening, “but I can still be of use, and you know it.”

“Some,” Sgileas agreed, “but at the slightest sign of betrayal—”

“Please,” Derwen rolled his eyes, “do you think I enjoy this company? I see you all leering for an opportunity to dispose of me. Your attempts to hide it are pathetic at best.”

“Perhaps we should just get it over with, then,” Rytlock growled, claw already curling around Sohothin’s hilt. 

“Kas,” a low, quiet voice came, and the female blinked in confusion to Tivon who looked meek among all the towering characters, “Could you scout ahead?”

“...Sure.” With a blink she disappeared and the sudden quiet that had settled was eerie, swallowing the anxiety and heat into a vacuum. 

Tivon brushed past them all and glanced down the path where the paths forked, and Braham could see the tight clench of Tivon’s fingers around the shaft of the staff. “We don’t have time to bicker,” Tivon murmured and sounded exasperated and weary, “can’t we just...forget the differences and get our friends back?”

“Momentarily.” Sgileas agreed coolly, giving Derwen an equal glare to match his voice. Then the Commander was suddenly quiet and frowned before he turned to Canach, and the secondborn nodded.

“Yes,” Canach agreed, even though Braham had no idea what he was agreeing to, “I hear it too.”

Oh.

Mordremoth.

Braham walked toward Tivon and stood by his side, giving the Druid a concerned glance. “You OK?” It seemed to become a frequently asked question, but Tivon did not seem to mind. Ever-green eyes met his own and he could see that Mordremoth’s voice left a strain upon Tivon’s mind, one that he could not possibly ease. 

“Just...Mordremoth.” Tivon explained and he looked...tired. Exhausted, even. “It’s...stronger here.” He had not looked like that in Rata Novus, he had started to look like this ever since they’d rejoined the Commander and…

Derwen. 

“Any sign of Kas?” Tivon asked, changing the topic, and Jory seemed nonchalant when she answered, 

“Don't worry. She has a knack for popping right in when…” There was a crackle in the air and Kas appeared in a ripple of purple, “ ...you're talking about her. Perfect timing.” Kas gave her a brilliant smile in answer.

Impatiently Sgileas inquired, “What did you see?”

“I found  Zojja and Logan, but they're heavily guarded.”

“Are they alive?” Braham asked.

“I couldn't tell.” Kas admitted ruefully. “That trail leads to Logan; the high road to Zojja.”

“I am going after Zojja,” Sgileas said sharply, having made the decision in less than a split second. “We will split up once again. Rytlock, Canach, you’re with me. You look for Logan and keep an eye out for Trahearne.”

“We will,” Tivon promised and took the lead. Much to Braham’s dismay Derwen followed, keeping close to Tivon and the Mesmer even had the audacity to  _ smile  _ at him. The trail parted and for a moment Braham watched as the other three slowly grew distant and then disappeared.

“Disturbing the way these huge vines move. It's almost as if you can feel the dragon breathe, being this close to it.” Jory murmured and craned her neck to observe the vines that tangled through the land all around them.

“Yes, ‘almost’.” Derwen replied sarcastically, and the tone was enough to make Jory quiet. She only raised her voice again when she saw something moving in the distance, “Breacher!” She warned and Braham brushed forward to build the front line. 

Breachers spewed Mordrem from their large, chasmic mouths, and those usually swarmed up to them in numbers. So when multiple of them approached Braham was more than ready to receive them while  acquainting them with his mace, his shield pushing and holding them off from crossing beyond the line he made. He felt the impact of Tivon’s tether on his back invigorate his strikes and he gave a low growl, uppercutting with his mace when a Mordrem Guard was left defenseless. 

The mace collided beneath the wooden chin, breaking it apart into chopped pieces and the Mordrem flew backwards, landing with a  _ thump  _ and lying motionlessly. Braham grinned triumphantly and swung his mace to the side - and felt power and vigor draining in an instant.

Not that it impacted the fact that his mace did devastating damage to the Mordrem wolf beside him, no. But it meant—

Braham turned around, eyes searching for Tivon and he saw the Druid in a state of anguish, fingers gripping into the branches atop his head, face contorted in pain and his breaths came in  staggering , heaving gasps. The world around him seemed to freeze, to slow down and Tivon’s lips parted to form a pained, loud groan. 

Before Braham could move Derwen already had. The Mesmer flew to Tivon’s side, fingers curling around Tivon’s wrists, hushing words that Braham couldn’t  _ hear _ . He could only see the movement of the Mesmer’s lips, could only watch as the Mesmer  _ cradled  _ him.

“Braham, watch out!” Rox cried and Braham whirled back around, shield slamming into the upper body of a Mordrem warrior that stumbled backwards. He wanted to turn around and see what was wrong, he needed to—

He made a frustrated noise, attacks fuelled by anger and rage, blue flames blazing over his wrists and hands, flowing over his weapons and engulfing them. Each strike left scorch marks and the burning spread, igniting the Mordrem like kindling, and when finally the last one fell, Braham finally turned around and saw that Tivon was on his knees, shivering, and Derwen was beside him,  _ holding  _ him—

Braham stomped toward the Mesmer and Derwen was whispering words into Tivon’s ear, was saying something, but Braham didn’t care. He grappled Derwen, pulling at the Mesmer’s shoulder and tore him away from Tivon with a malicious pull. 

The Mesmer managed to somehow stumble to his feet and Tivon swayed and hunched over, his arms catching his fall just barely and they were trembling with the effort it took. Kas knelt down beside him, her pale arms attempting to pull him upright, but his body was caught in a tight set of tremors he couldn’t control.

“What are you doing?” Braham demanded lowly, Rox, Taimi and Jory slowly joining beside him.

Derwen straightened and glared him down, “Mordremoth intrudes our mind, what do  _ you _ know of our struggles?”

“You stay away from him!” Braham growled and Derwen didn’t even  _ flinch _ .

“Tivon,” Kas hushed in a soothing and shaking voice, “Tiv, it’s OK, we’re here, we’re all here—”

“You can not paliate his mind.  _ I  _ can.” 

“I won’t allow you to use your  _ magic _ to—” Kas seethed out, eyes flaring when she craned her neck to look up at the Mesmer, but Derwen shut her down just the same,

“You would gamble his sanity for your  _ petty  _ ideologies?” Derwen hissed and his white pattern flared brightly, showing the full  extent of his rage that seared beneath the surface. “No  _ friend  _ would ever do that.”

“Don’t even.” Braham growled low and Derwen rose to his full height,  white-dark eyes gleaming maliciously and his hand tightened around his staff visibly, clearly a warning. 

“Move  _ aside _ .” Derwen demanded lowly, voice dropping into a dark, foreboding timbre, “The sole reason that I let you  _ live  _ is quivering beside you this very moment and should you allow this inane prodding to continue, for Tivon to lose his  _ sanity _ —” The staff gave a bright flare, mimicking his earnesty and gravity, “Then I will  purge every trace of you ever having existed from this world.”

The weight of the threat hung heavily in the air and with those final words he struck down not one, not two, but  _ five  _ people, all at once. They didn’t bring out another word as Dewen brushed past them and knelt down besides Tivon, the Bifrost clattering onto the floor. Kas scooted back, stumbling to her shaky feet, eyes wide, and they all watched in pain-stricken silence as Derwen worked.

Lithe, long fingers encumbered the side of Tivon’s head and Derwen’s face was serious and attentive, eyes flickering over every change of Tivon’s features. Tivon had his eyes closed, eyelids fluttering and twitching, eyebrows furrowed into a grimace that showed just how painful the struggle must be, and Tivon’s hands flew up to grip Derwen’s wrists tightly, most likely needing to have something to hold on to.

“What are you doing?” Kas asked breathlessly. 

Derwen didn’t deign to answer. There was only a soft, purple sheen that illuminated his features for a moment, lines of purple and pink weaving from his arms around his wrists toward Tivon’s head before  _ sinking  _ into the bark and miraculously, Tivon’s breath hitched and he gasped and then his features relaxed.

“That’s it,” Derwen whispered, voice so careful and tender and low that Braham couldn’t stand to watch. “The Dragon will not get you. I won’t allow it.”

Tivon’s eyes twitched and the grip on Derwen’s wrists loosened. The Druid took a shaky breath. “Derwen.” He whispered, almost like a prayer, and this time Braham turned away fully. He couldn’t take that Tivon’s voice sounded so supplicating, that he was calling out Derwen’s name instead of...his. 

It really was no good, was it? Braham clenched his fists and grit his teeth, trying to smother the jealousy boiling up inside. 

_ He  _ really was no good. 

 

***

 

It was so...peaceful. Tivon could feel the sunlight on his skin, wind caressing over his bark, a hand sifting through his leafs. He was back in Queensdale, just a leap away from Divinity’s Reach, and the smell of lavender lingered in his nose. 

No, no, wait. He wasn’t anywhere  _ near  _ Divinity’s Reach. He was in the Maguuma Jungle, facing down Mordremoth. It had gripped his mind like a vice, nearly turned him inside out and the great bellow of the Dragon’s voice had left a cleave in his head as if it had been split by an axe. 

Then…

Why couldn’t he hear the Elder Dragon’s vehement clamour any longer? It was muffled as if yelled from behind a thick wall of glass, so distant and faded Tivon barely even heard. 

Confused Tivon opened his eyes and found that indeed, there was no sunlight greeting him, and that the rush of wind and the rustling of leafs he had heard wasn’t real. But he found that the scent lingering in his nose very much was, and slowly lifted his gaze to meet Derwen’s eyes, noticing how very close the  Mesmer was and that the Mesmer’s hands were holding the side of his head. 

He had always felt like he’d been caught in a trap whenever he met Derwen’s eyes, but now, being held so close, gazing up and meeting them, seeing the pattern illuminating them even brighter—

“Derwen,” Tivon croaked out, bewildered and addled, and Derwen smiled his enigmatic smile. 

“No need to look quite so startled,” Derwen teased, “I don’t bite. Much.”

Tivon felt the warmth stroke through him at those words and scrambled back, finding that Derwen let him go with no resistance at all. It was maddening that Derwen was gentle and forward both at once, and Tivon licked his lips, trying hard to think of something to say. “Mordremoth—” 

“It’s attempts are futile at best,” Derwen assured him, “We are drawing closer. Too close for comfort, I imagine.”

Logan. Zojja. Trahearne.  _ By the Pale Tree,  _ Mordremoth had struck hard this time, Tivon had felt as if the Dragon’s voice had been not only in his head, but as if it had reverberated through his very being, as if he himself was only a tool to proclaim the Dragon’s demands. He’d forgotten for a moment about their mission, about his purpose. 

“For a moment I... “ Tivon began and then shook his head. “Thank you.”

Derwen’s gaze turned deep, understanding and...too heavy for Tivon to properly breathe. For a moment he feared Derwen would be gentle, would lift a hand to cup his cheek or touch his shoulder, and he felt weak in the knees just  _ imagining  _ it, wondering if he even has the strength to push Derwen away. When the Mesmer was like this...he didn’t want to. It was all so familiar, so close, so comfortable that it was like all those months back before Tivon had known of the deception and thankfully, Derwen shifted, breaking whatever had trapped Tivon in place. 

“Of course,” the Mesmer murmured and there was something fluttering behind his eyes, a memory, a thought, Tivon couldn’t be sure, “You have something more to tell me, don’t you?”

For a moment Tivon feels like he’s been caught red-handed, even though he can’t think of  _ why.  _ “W-what?” he stuttered unsure.

“Mordremoth was calling for  _ you _ .” Derwen emphasized, and Tivon relived the holler of Mordremoth’s voice, glad that it’s voice was nothing but a faint whisper against his mind.

_ “Tell me, Keeper,”  _ Mordremoth had demanded, voice guttural and echoing through every fiber of his body,  _ “under what force shall you break?” _

_ “I won’t,”  _ he had chanted, had screamed, and Mordremoth had  _ laughed _ .

_ “You will. No one dares oppose me for long.” _

“Ah,” Tivon made and gulped, “It… I am not  _ sure _ , but I think it calls me Keeper because of the egg.”

“Not to mention you managed to cure the Pale Tree of Mordremoth’s corruption,” Kas chimed in, slowly daring to step closer once again in a protective manner. 

Derwen eyes had looked at Kas as she spoke, but as soon as she finished his eyes flicked to Tivon, widening just slightly. “You can...negate it’s corruption?”

“Partly,” Tivon admitted, feeling like he’d been put on the spot. Perhaps it was this that had him feeling like he’d been caught stealing. “It- It was nothing.”

_ “Nothing?” _ Derwen repeated and stepped closer, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief and he opened his mouth to speak, but a big, broad arm kept him from entering Tivon’s space, Braham glaring down at the Mesmer with a menacing glare. 

“Don’t even think of it,” Braham hissed and Tivon felt a fondness bloom in his chest at the protective manner of Braham’s posture and gesture, and Derwen was glaring up at Braham with an equal hatred. 

“Guys!” Jory called and they all turned toward the woman as she waved them closer, “I can see blisters in the distance.”

Blisters. Logan. 

Tivon glanced up at Braham and lifted his hand to touch his arm, the skin soft and warm beneath his fingertips, the brush of hairs almost tickling. “Come on,” Tivon encouraged and then brushed past them both, heading for Jory’s position. 

 

***

 

Negate the dragon’s effects. And being  _ nonchalant  _ about it.

No, nonchalance was a sign of knowledge and arrogance. Tivon was none of those. He was oblivious, naive. Derwen wanted to grip the Druid’s shoulders and shake some sense into him (Didn’t Tivon realize what this meant?), but a bile rose in his throat as he contemplated the next steps. 

His plan was slowly progressing. All he needed was a bit more patience, yet he had not expected  _ this  _ development. If Tivon was that strong then—

It was imperative that Tivon did not get in his way. Derwen gripped the Bifrost tightly, following the group only slowly, caring little for the human Guardian that was trapped in the blisters Mordremoth used for prisons and transmutation chambers. 

If anything this would serve as the perfect opportunity to make his exit. There was nothing to gain from lingering with the group now, not actively, anyway. He couldn’t trail after them, not with so many magic users able to sense his presence. Plus he was sure Sgileas had recovered enough to actually pose a threat now. 

_ “Not much longer now,”  _ Derwen thought and took a deep breath. His whole life accumulated to these very few moments, all had played out to  _ this.  _

Braham was walking behind Tivon, following the Druid with his broad set of shoulders, and despite  Derwen knowing how useless it was, the jealousy flared to life like wildfire. He hastened his pace without actually looking rushed and moved up toward the Norn, glancing up at him in a not-so-subtle manner so that the idiot noticed. 

What was it Tivon even  _ saw  _ in this brute? It was unfathomable. If Derwen could do nothing but plant just a little seed of spite and doubt, he would. There was no doubt in his mind that Tivon had come to be the sylvari he had feared he would be - and now the clock was only ticking, doors of opportunity sliding shut.

If he couldn’t have him, neither would Braham.

“Do you know?”

“What?” Braham asked sharply and lowly, noticing Derwen’s searching stare. The Norn came to an abrupt halt, the others proceeding without even noticing them, and Derwen squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. 

“Do you know,” Derwen asked, smirking up at Braham, “what it is like to  _ have  _ him?”

Braham frowned at that, clearly not understanding before the flush of heat and anger permeated the air, nearly bursting from Braham’s skin. “You—” The Norn snarled, but Derwen continued, pulling the strings of his ploy taut and tight, 

“To have him begging beneath you? Squirming? Asking for more?”

A force slammed into the side of his head and despite the feeling of  _ triumph  _ he felt the throbbing pain at the side of his skull. A large, broad and sweaty hand rested around his throat and lifted him off the ground easily. The strength of the Norn would have frightened him if he had not calculated for this to happen. 

Derwen coughed, feeling the dent where the fibers formed the skull, sap  oozing over his temple in a long drag over his cheek. His smirk only widened as the Norn constricted his ability to breathe and he gripped the Norn’s wrist with both hands,  white-dark eyes looking down, down,  _ down.  _

“I do.” He croaked out and the fingers tightened, he gasped and his vision darkened, body convulsing in soft spasms before a voice ripped through the void taking over his brain,

“Braham, stop!” Tivon called in panic, but the grip on his throat tightened and Braham looked like he might kill him for real, eyes set dark and deadly, and then vines curled around Braham’s torso, his arms and yanked him away, making him relinquish his  choke hold on Derwen’s throat.

Derwen fell to the floor, knees buckling beneath him and he caught himself on all fours, coughing and sputtering. 

“Braham, you can’t just—” Tivon tried but Braham whirled toward him with anger, trying to tear from the vines’ hold, 

“I’ll kill him.” The norn growled lowly, and Derwen saw through the flutter of his eyelashes how Tivon looked shocked at the primal urge of those words, the sheer rage emitted from Braham, as if he had not known that the Norn was naught but a brute. “By the Spirits, I  _ will _ .”

“What happened?” Kas asked, voice almost meek over the bellow of Braham’s growls. 

Derwen barely heard what the Norn answered because two hands rested on his shoulders and he looked up to meet Tivon’s worried eyes, searching over the side of his face. “Are you alright?” Tivon asked, and the concern in his voice was  _ real _ . 

“Tivon!” Braham protested wildly and Tivon winced when Braham tried to tear free from the vines that held him down, the Druid glanced over his shoulder from where he crouched in front of Derwen.

“Go ahead,” he said sharply and even though Derwen could not see, he was sure Tivon looked disappointed.

_ Perfect _ . 

“Tiv...are you sure?” Kas asked and Tivon turned away, the bitterness in his voice most likely like acid to the ears of his friends.

“I’m sure I am the only one who doesn’t want to kill him, so  _ yes _ .”

There was an awkward moment of silence and then Tivon released Braham with a flick of his wrist, looking...exhausted and torn, eyebrows drawn in into a contemplative grimace. The others moved, footsteps disappearing in the distance, and Derwen heard Rox ask, “What did he do?”, but once again he didn’t pay attention to the answer. 

Braham would be too ashamed to speak the complete truth, most likely just admitting to having been antagonized, but no more. 

“Why?” Tivon asked, voice quiet, and Derwen lifted himself, rubbing the column of his throat with his palm. The Norn had a strong grip, he had to admit that. 

Derwen wasn’t sure how much of the situation Tivon actually understood, so he made a “Hm?”, noticing how the sound left a painful thrum. 

Tivon lifted his hand to cup the side of his head, looking weary and older beyond his years. Just...tired. So very, very tired. 

A gilded light formed at the corner of Derwen’s vision and he felt the soothing magic filter through his stems into his fibers, restoring and kneading them into form once again. The ache in the side of his skull alleviated over time, and Derwen used the time to inspect Tivon closer. 

Was it really his face he had seen? Was it really...this? It...had to be.

“He doesn’t like you,” Tivon admitted quietly, not meeting his eyes.

“Neither do I.”

“You...said something to him.” Green eyes flicked unsurely to meet his own, but Derwen held the gaze. 

“I did.”

“What was it?”

Derwen wanted to smile, but held it back. This moment was delicate and it was one of the portions he had not planned for (His plan had been to antagonize Braham enough to punch him and for Tivon to intervene, beyond that… It was open to development), but the opportunity was too great to pass by. Tivon was conflicted, exhausted, and most likely more vulnerable and open than ever before. 

Derwen was no stranger to exploiting moments such as this, especially when it meant one more moment with Tivon. 

He lifted his hand and placed it gently but firmly over Tivon’s, startling the Druid and making him tense all the way to the indrawn pull of his shoulders. Green eyes flared brightly, the pattern gleaming at the action, and Derwen held his gaze steadily and evenly.

“I asked him if he knew,” Derwen began, voice dropping into a low husk, desire bleeding into his eyes. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it at this point, “What it is like to lie with you.”

Tivon’s breath hitched, gilded light flashing between them when his pattern vivaciously jumped to life. 

“Braham and I—” Tivon began, fumbling for words, the thought alone bringing his wonderfully innocent mind into a spiral, “We’re not—” 

“No,” Derwen agreed, “No, you’re not.” 

That had Tivon stunned into silence, and when Derwen lifted his hand, gingerly taking Tivon’s hand with his own, the Druid jumped just slightly at the touch, fingers twitching against his palm. Derwen’s thumb caressed over the skin, pressing in a warm, soothing circle. 

“Is this it then?” Derwen asked, feigning hurt and he lifted his chin, “Will you play with us both?”

Tivon looked pleading, pain crossing over his features. “That’s not… I never meant—”

“I love you,” Derwen emphasized once again and Tivon’s eyes widened, Derwen’s grip around his hand tightening. “Tell me.” Derwen demanded, voice low, “Tell me that you do not love me.”

If there had been a spell to shatter Tivon apart, Derwen’s words would have been the incantation. 

“I—” Tivon rasped out, nearly choked, “I can’t.”

“Because you  _ do _ ,” Derwen whispered and Tivon inclined his head and averted his eyes, hand trembling in Derwen’s hold. “Try as you might, you do.”

Tivon finally pulled away and Derwen let him, not at all surprised. “The others—” Tivon began, still not looking at him, “We should...go.”

When Tivon turned away, body and mind completely shredded into pieces, mind most likely raging with thoughts he couldn’t even begin to sort, Derwen finally,  _ finally  _ smiled wickedly and followed Tivon’s steps, making sure that the Druid could hear him with every step.

The seed was planted. 

 

***

 

Braham hadn’t answered. Kas and Rox had both asked what Derwen had said, but how was he to put such a forward thing into words? He knew it was meant for his ears - and his  _ alone -  _ and the worst was that it  _ worked _ . 

The jealousy that came roaring to life was almost otherworldly, making his skin bristle and boil to a point he felt he’d melt at his own anger, and he tried to ignore the images flashing in his head, images he’d never  _ dared  _ think before this except now that they had been planted there. 

Images of Tivon, doing...doing  _ that _ . 

Spirits help him, he wished he could make those images disappear. It was unbearable to imagine that Derwen had seen that, had  _ done  _ that to Tivon, and that made it all just so much worse to leave Tivon in the clutches of that monster.

Just why? Why did Tivon feel the need to protect him? 

He didn’t want to think of Tivon squirming, panting, begging - by the Spirits, but he couldn’t stop. Tivon had seemed so innocent up until that point, up until Braham had been hit bluntly by the truth. 

That Tivon wasn’t as innocent as he’d thought. That wasn’t what was scary, however. Scary was that the low thrum in Braham’s belly was only a sign that the rage was fuelled by a desire nearing that of ardour, and he...he  _ hated  _ that Tivon had been together with Derwen. 

It was as if an image had been shattered, and now Braham was fumbling to readjust, to get a grip of his out of control mind. 

“Braham, focus.” Rox chided, but there was sympathy in her voice too, and Braham could do nothing but grit his teeth, jaw set tight, fingers gripping around his mace and shield. He could see the Mordrem ahead, the large, oval-shaped blisters and a strange bulb-like window that offered view of a figure inside, a figure that looked very much like Logan. 

Rox was right. Mordremoth was their target, their enemy, Logan the one they meant to retrieve…

Then  _ why  _ could he not stop thinking about Tivon? 

The fight felt underwhelming, passing by in a blur of swings, mace crashing through the brittle coppice that kept the Mordrem together, and he glanced over his shoulder looking for a sign of Tivon...but the Druid was no where to be seen. 

He shouldn’t have left him alone with Derwen. He should have gripped harder and snapped the damn Mesmer’s neck. He should have ended it all right then and there.

The image of Derwen dangling from his hand, fist curled tight tight  _ tight  _ around his throat gave him a spike of satisfaction, the anger in him humming in appreciation, but he knew that if he had...if he had killed Derwen then, Tivon would never have forgiven him.

Their lives were just one massive balance on a tightrope, wasn’t it? 

“How do we—” Kas asked but Jory did not wait for them to figure out a way to access the blister. Her greatsword swung in an arc right through the gleaming part and some strange green liquid gushed out, Logan’s body washing onto the ground before their feet. 

Jory knelt down beside Logan’s form, one hand hoisting up the human’s shoulders. “Logan, can you hear me?” 

The man coughed up parts of the liquid, eyes blinking open blearily. “The others... Zojja…”

“We're getting you out.”

“The darkness. I didn't know where to stand... It was lifting me.” It almost seemed as if the human doesn’t even hear Jory, but she continued, 

“You're safe now. Can you walk?”

There was the sound of footsteps behind them and Braham whirled around, eyes falling on Tivon who looked wary and tense, Derwen not far behind. The damned Mesmer wore his ever annoying smile, almost beaming up at Braham, and Braham tries to focus on Tivon instead.

The Druid clutched his staff tightly and brushed past, not daring to look up, a mixture of...guilt and pain on his features, and when Braham caught Derwen’s languid stance, leaning against the Bifrost nonchalantly, he wanted to squish the Mesmer all the more. 

What had he done this time? What had he told Tivon? What had he said? Braham would never know. Tivon knelt down beside Logan, hands surrounded by a gilded light as the staff clanked on the parched ground beside a Mordrem corpse. “Logan, what happened?”

“I...there was this darkness. I don’t….”

“It’s OK,” Tivon soothed, “We’ve got you now.”

Whatever Tivon was doing, it seemed to work. Logan’s shoulder relaxed, slouching slightly and his expression was less pain stricken. “I can take him out of here,” Kas offered and stepped closer meekly and Tivon glanced up at her. 

“Alright, then we’ll try to catch up with Sgileas and the others. Will you be fine?”

Kas smiled at the concern, “Yes, not to worry.” It was clear that she had been concerned about the events prior to this, about what had happened with Derwen...but Tivon didn’t hold it against them. Didn’t hold anything against anyone, ever. 

That was both endearing and a show of magnificent and benevolent character, and yet right now it was a most infuriating quality because Derwen was  _ using  _ that, was exploiting Tivon’s good nature and—

Braham wasn’t one to talk, however. Ever since Derwen had uttered those words it had broken free an avalanche that Braham couldn’t stop. He had not thought of Tivon in  _ that  _ way, and now that that door had been opened he couldn’t force it shut. Spirits, he was awful. He shouldn’t think of Tivon that way. It wasn’t... _ appropriate _ . 

He couldn’t take this. Spirits help him...he  _ couldn’t.  _

If only he could escape this madness somehow.

Tivon stood and made to move forward and Braham followed meekly, the white of his knuckles showing. He couldn’t look at Tivon, feeling too ashamed by the overwhelming extent of his shifting thoughts, and instead glared daggers into the sky.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derwen's an ass, isn't he? But how we all love him for it.  
> Braham gets ideas in his head now that are quite inappropriate and Tivon has to battle with himself because he can't sort out his feelings. Next up we'll save Zojja and Caithe appears again. *shuffles through notes* Yeah I still don't know how she'll survive this, but we'll have to wait and see. *nervous laughter*  
> Keep hanging on tight, guys. I hope you'll forgive me for these sporadic posts, but I am sure you lot need a break from all the feels anyway.  
> Love you guys and see you in the next one!


	63. Bitter Harvest Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Didn't expect to hear from me this soon, eh? Well, here I am :D  
> Uh. That's about all I had to say, so off you go, shoo, go read!

Sgileas staggered back and made a growling noise in the back of his throat when the Breacher spewed Mordrem onto the ground, green, oozing liquid sputtering in splats. Mordremoth tried to keep them back, but it was not doing so with all its capability. It could have easily tried to send stronger Mordrem against them, or increased their numbers.

Like this it felt all too familiar like the whole journey had. As if they were the mouse in the paws of a cat, unable to tear away, to escape, slowing closing in on the death trap. 

“More Mordrem ahead,” Rytlock grumbled, Sohothin swishing with a blazing trail when the Tribune raised it as a prelude to his attack. Sgileas turned his head, his shoulders giving a sore ache at the movement. 

“We will dispose of them like the rest,” Sgileas curled his fingers into a fist, summoning the dark magic to weave around his wrist. There was no weapon in his hands, but it was not necessary for him to be holding one. 

There had been many things he’d been used to, habits over habits that had made him forget just  _ how far  _ he’d come after his awakening even without a sword, a staff or a shield. 

When he’d felt Trahearne’s presence he’d remembered the words all too well, leaving a sting and a bitter taste in his mouth. 

_ “Your Shroud will always protect you and provide you with a weapon you can wield easily. The sword is simply so that you are not empty-handed.” _

He longed to hear Trahearne’s voice again, to see him, and now that he knew that he lived...it was an even greater torture. To know that Mordremoth had  its ugly clutching claws around him, imprisoned and faint—

His spells were fuelled with a pure, sinking hatred that pooled within his belly, filling him with thoughts that swirled around how he’d suck the life from Mordremoth, how he’d savour the moment the dragon  succumbed to them. 

The Mordrem that charged at them were pierced by a stream of dark, piercing shadows, and Sgileas lifted his hand into the air, purple eyes glinting menacingly before he withdrew it, the shadows obeying his command and withdrawing. 

The bodies fell and slumped to the floor, utterly life-less, and the life force drifted into the air. They were green bulbs of dimmed light that only he could see, and with a movement of his hand he drew them all in, letting them sink into his skin far beneath the bark to fuel his power and rage. 

They tasted of bitter earth, of rotten a fouling coppice and a hint of what Sgileas could only describe as Mordremoth. To consume the essences was most likely not the wisest thing. They were corrupted, etched with Mordremoth’s power, but at this point Sgileas was prepared to use all means necessary to take down Mordremoth and bring Trahearne back. 

_ No,  _ he reprimanded himself and closed his eyes against the sudden swell of emotion, the searing and demanding hate that made him want to rip out every vine and blighted tree he could see.  _ Do not lose yourself.  _

He’d promised himself to be  _ better _ than that. He was not about to go back on his promise. 

Rytlock sheathed Sohothin with the blade giving a fiery hiss, the Breacher set alight like a towering torch. It’s form wriggled uselessly, flames dragging up it’s long branches and entwined vines, scorching and burning it alive. 

Canach pulled his own blade from a Mordrem corpse and cast him a glance. That warrior’s face remained unreadable no matter how many times Sgileas tried to discern the lines of his hardy face. 

In the distance Sgileas could make out blighted pods erected slightly into the air, held aloft by large and thick vines that swayed only ever so slightly, giving the illusion of movement and stillness, both at once. 

“There, ahead.”

“Is that…” Rytlock growled as they drew closer, the shadow of a figure painted against the outer line of the pod, and the closer they came, the clearer it was. “...Zoija.”

“Canach, get her out of there.” Sgileas ordered sharply and the warrior moved while Rytlock and Sgileas surveyed the area. Was Mordremoth really going to let them simply take her? What had the point of this chase been, then? 

There was the sound of cutting and sloshing, and Zoija flushed from the interior of what had been a chamber filled with strange, green liquid that now splayed over the ground at the feet. Neither of them paid it any mind, and Canach knelt down to help Zoija into a sitting position as she sputtered and gasped for air. 

“Zoija, can you hear me?” Sgileas asked as he knelt down on her other side, and her huge eyes looked bleary and dazed. 

“I—I can’t see.” There was a short pause, and Sgileas could see a milky film covering her eyes. “Where’s Taimi?”

“She’s not here.”

"The darkness. I felt...behind myself; outside.”

“You’re here now, you’re safe.” Rytlock said, his gruff voice unusually soft. She was one of his old guildmates, so Sgileas could not blame him. 

Canach tensed and was looking at him and Sgileas lifted his eyes to meet Canach’s gaze, but noticed that Canach was actually looking at something over his shoulder. “Commander,” Canach began and Sgileas turned around, “we’ve got company.”

Caithe stepped from the shadow of a vine wall, her face unreadable as she mustered them, and Sgileas stood with a foreboding hiss of his Shroud. 

“Caithe.”

“Commander.”

“ I’ll give you five seconds,” Sgileas threatened lowly.

“That...creature, Faolain. I am tracking her to put her out of her misery.” A small pause. “But I need help.”

“Get in line,” Rytlock growled. 

“You may rest at ease,” Sgileas lifted his hand, magic swirling over his arm and this time, he would not allow her to escape. This time, she would  _ die. _

The ground gave a rumbling churn and minions rose from the ground around her, surrounding and trapping her in place. She staggered back, daggers held aloft to defend herself, but what would the use of that be? She could not kill what was already  _ dead _ .

“After your death, we’ll deal with Faolain.”

“If you do this,” Caithe’s eyes were sharp, glaring at him from beneath the white of her ferns, “you’ll be known as the one who killed a firstborn in cold blood. Out of sheer  _ hatred  _ and nothing else.”

“I’ve taken care to live up to my titles,” Sgileas hissed back, “and it is my life’s work to keep Tyria safe. So long as you stumble upon this earth, innocents will get killed by your inane sense of entitlement. Being a firstborn is a whimsical shield against mortality.”

The minions drew in on her position and her eyes glanced at those that surrounded her, the panic crossing over her features for just a moment, but even when she glanced over toward Rytlock who was now steadying the addled Zoija, she found no assistance. 

Sgileas made a motion with his hand, fingers clawing in Caithe’s direction, and he could feel the magic  _ connecting _ with a powerful slam that had them both staggering for a moment. Caithe tried to resist and lifted her arms, slashing at the nearest minion when Sgileas  _ pulled _ , and the life force was sucked gradually into his palm. 

Caithe made a confused noise and her knees buckled, weakness settling into her fibers as the pull of Sgileas magic sucked away the life from her, and she tried to lift herself, resisting,  _ refusing  _ to yield and Sgileas growled, shoved his hand forward and—

There were the sounds of footsteps behind him,  _ running  _ footsteps, and he felt the brush of warm air only briefly before he saw the glimmer of gilded light from the corner of his eyes, and then appeared Tivon out of  _ thin air _ , gripping his arm with a powerful yank, forcing Sgileas to turn away to catch his balance. 

“What are you—” Sgileas hissed and tried to wretch his arm free, but from Tivon’s fingers sprouted vines that curled around Sgileas arm, trapping him in place, and with a sharp glance Tivon looked over at Caithe, the minions drawing in on her, towering over her cowering form, and with a lift of his staff - a  _ simple  _ lift - vines pierced the minions from below, impaling them on spikes.

Sgileas still struggled, glaring down at Tivon and  _ hating  _ that the universe always found a way to intervene  _ just  _ before he gave Caithe what she deserved, but Tivon’s eyes held his furious glare with an equanimity and acerbity that startled him. 

From the corner of his eyes Caithe stumbled to her feet, back leaning against the wall of vines for support, gasping for air, her arms trembling from exhaustion. He’d been so close,  _ so  _ close to—

“You can’t kill her.” Tivon dead-panned and yanked at his arm once again. When had it become this way around, that Tivon was the one to  _ reprimand  _ him? To  _ demand  _ anything of him? 

“She’s  _ betrayed  _ us,” Sgileas spat out, finally giving up to break free. “Do you wish to wait until it happens again?”

“If you are searching for someone to blame, blame  _ Mordremoth, _ ” Tivon gripped tighter, not trusting that Sgileas had stopped his futile struggle, “We are all sylvari. We can not afford to fight amongst ourselves.”

“She is the reason the Pact was destroyed, why the egg remained out of our reach, why  _ all of this  _ happened!”

“She is not responsible for Mordremoth’s actions!” Tivon’s voice raised as well. 

Damn this  _ Sapling _ . 

Sgileas grit his teeth and glared over at Caithe who was watching them with a forced, level face, her breath coming more evenly now. He  _ hated  _ her. He hated the thought of letting her live, hated to think that her betrayal should go unpunished. 

Tivon’s grip softened and the vines drew back, leaving only the feeling of pressure behind. 

“Killing her would solve nothing,” Tivon continued, voice lower this time. “If anything, it would be another additional death in this tragedy. Do you not think we have lost enough? That all life is precious? That we must cherish it? Isn’t that why we fight?”

How.

No.

_ When? _

When had Tivon become…. _ this?  _ He’d been nothing but an awkward, insecure Ranger when they’d met, and he’d grown,  _ outgrown  _ himself. 

Sgileas deflated, anger subsiding. He could admit that the emotions had scraped him raw, had made him eager to commit this act that would have profited nobody but his own sense of justice, and even though he hated to think it and it had ignited the anger in him last time, he admitted to himself that Trahearne would have tried to stop him from this, just as well. 

Tivon let go, most likely sensing that Sgileas had calmed down, and he cast Caithe a glance. When he looked at her he still felt the spite and hatred, but it was smothered like a more distant memory. 

Sgileas sighed. “Fine.” He yielded, “but we will watch her. If she betrays us again—”

“I will not stand in your way.”

Sgileas nodded and finally regarded the party that had arrived with Tivon. “Did you find Logan?”

“Kas is taking him somewhere safe.” Tivon knelt down beside Zoija, his hand hovering over her small form. “You’re safe now,” the Druid soothed her. 

Braham marched past them toward where Caithe stood and held out his large hand. “Hand over your daggers, traitor.”

Caithe squinted her eyes but obliged, dropping the daggers with the flowery hilt into Braham’s outstretched hand. 

“Rytlock?” Zoija croaked, the milky film over her eyes slowly dispersing. 

“Not quite fertilizer yet, eh?” Rytlock  joked .

“I didn’t think— Where were you?”

“Oh, learning a thing or two here and there in the Mists. You know, typical jumping-into-a-rift sort of thing.”

She gave a very weak smile. “Anything to help us stop this dragon?”

“Why don't you let us handle that? This team... they're as good as we ever were.”

But there was something else that unnerved Sgileas and he whirled on the spot, startling Tivon enough to gaze up at him.

“What is it?” 

“Where is Derwen?” Sgileas asked and even though they all turned to look the Mesmer was nowhere to be seen.

 

***

 

Tivon turned, eyes searching. He could have sworn Derwen was behind him, with them— 

He wanted to give a bitter, choked laugh. Derwen had disappeared, once again. Inserting himself into his life, messing up everything, only to disappear after for Tivon to sort through the chaos and the mess. 

Instead he tended grimly to Zoija who was gravely weakened and exhausted - nothing a good week of rest would not fix, but it helped distract his mind. 

“Dead, hopefully.” Braham grumbled out in answer. 

“What are the chances of that?” Jory wondered aloud. 

“Isn't this touching?” A voice purred, deep and reverberating through the vines and the earth alike, and they all turned with a sudden jolt toward a slope in the distance where the creature Faolain had been turned into stood. “Destiny's Edge reunited as last. Zojja, you're looking well.”

“Faolain!” Braham cursed.

“It isn't Faolain.” Canach dead-panned, “Mordremoth is behind those eyes.”

“Whoever it is is about to be put into a grave.” Braham charged toward where the creature crackled a rumbling laughter, tail swishing as it turned away.

“You'll have to catch me first.”

“Let's go!” Braham urged, giving none of them time to adjust. 

“Jory, see to it that Kas takes Zoija out of here.” Tivon instructed and Jory gave a curt nod, kneeling down beside Zoija to hoist the small asura into her arms. 

“You got it, Boss.” It was touching that she called him that, and he gave her a weak smile, which she returned. “Give her a good one from me.”

Tivon was on his feet the next instant, just short behind after Canach and Rytlock, dashing through the many tangles of vines that blocked their path. Faolain left massive prints in the parched earth, making it easy to follow her. That was not at all reassuring. It was clear that she was luring them, leading them somewhere into the heart of the Maguuma jungle...and possible right to where Mordremoth was strongest. 

“Don't you see?” Faolain laughed teasingly from behind a wall of vines, pacing it like a trapped cat, “Harmony is coming, and you will join Mordremoth.”

“Your harmony is slavery, and we will not stand for it!” Caithe spat out, and Rytlock raised Sohothin to tear the vine wall down with a fiery blaze of the flaming sword. Flames engulfed the vines, growing stronger and larger, climbing up and outward until finally, they managed to squeeze through. 

“You may have uprooted Zojja and Logan, but you'll never make it to Trahearne.” Faolain’s voice crepitated through the cracks of the vines, and they barely caught a glimpse of her tail as it swished and disappeared.

Tivon glanced at Sgileas with worry, but the Necromancer was at the very front, purple gleam of his pattern flaring in what could only be anger. 

“He'll have the pleasure of following his true master.”

“He'd rather die than serve you!” Sgileas roared, the shadows moving erratically around his body in eager anticipation to act on the constant antagonization. 

“Soon, he won't be able to tell the difference. Soon he'll become part of us.”

Once again Faolain disappeared, laughter echoing through the whole jungle around them and Tivon could  _ hear  _ the grit of Sgileas teeth before he cursed under his breath. 

“Commander, please!” Caithe said and Sgileas came to an abrupt halt, purple eyes glaring down at her. “Let me fight! I can help you reach Trahearne! I only want to kill the dragon!  Its death might kill me—the entire sylvari people—but that's better than living in its grasp! It's the only end I've been working toward.”

The air felt too thick to breathe as the party waited for Sgileas’ answer. Tivon almost gave a sigh of relief when it came. “Fine. Potential risk to our people aside, if you cross me again, I'll personally send you to the Mists.” With that said Sgileas gave Braham a curt nod and the Norn reluctantly gave Caithe the daggers back, Braham’s and Tivon’s eyes met when Braham made to turn away.

Something flashed in those blue eyes that looked dark and Tivon’s stomach twisted at the sight, then Braham turned away.  Ever since the whole thing with Derwen...something had changed.

Tivon lowered his gaze defeatedly and jerked when Rox’s hand came to rest upon his shoulder, “Come on,” she encouraged as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, and he nodded. 

They followed Faolain’s trail through the unsteady terrain, the Maguuma jungle parting to a much more dreamlike landscape. Rocks substituted the large walls of vines for a moment, revealing a massive cliffside adjourning a sea of ley-line energy that had them all stop and stare for a moment.

“This must be what the dragon feeds on,” Sgileas stared down the wide abyss that was covered in a magical fog, obscuring just how far below it lead. Amidst the blue and white sea of ley line energy rested a large discontinued stem of a tree that protruded over the whole sea. “We must be close.”

With those words Sgileas set the pace, leading through the magic imbued area, several rocks floating in the thin air making a set of crossable passages toward the other side. They left the sea of ley line energy behind and Tivon glanced over his shoulder, searching for a sign of Derwen but found none.

The stones parted, dazzling grey making way for the earthen looking and heavily worn vines, and slowly they progressed to what  _ had  _ to be the Dragon’s center. A large hallowed husk of a tree creaked over their heads, a strange swishing noise filling their ears and once they disposed of the Mordrem guarding the entrance, it became clear what it was. 

Tivon felt it deep down, humming through him, every fiber alight with the sensation of being  _ watched.  _ “We're here. This thing. This tree, must be the dragon's epicenter.” A large, flattened spine circled in the middle of a pool that reeked of the Dragon’s corruption, circling around the center, a spiral that lead up toward an advance where Tivon could see Faolain’s tail disappearing. 

“Yes, I feel Mordremoth's eyes bearing down upon me.” Canach murmured, dark onyx eyes trailing over the spine with matted curiosity.

“Where is the beast?” Braham brushed forward, the first to step on the small island of grass that is all that bridged the space between the climb of the spine and the ground. “I want to meet eyes with the jungle overlord.” Tivon was hard-pressed to follow Braham when the Norn began the ascend without saying a word, the others following behind. There was a fiery rage wafting from Braham, it was palpable in the air around him and Tivon wondered if it was conceited to believe he was responsible, or if perhaps Braham was thinking of avenging his mother.

Or both.

Canach gave Braham a dead-pan stare, “It's not one thing out here, Braham. It's everything!” Canach gestured around them, “The entire time we were traversing this jungle, we were afoot on its back. Like fleas on a hound.”

“If that's the case, then…” Braham glared and gripped his mace tight and with a loud growl lifted it over his shoulder, blue light flaring and trailing after the strike as he slammed the mace onto the spine, the bone not even budging.

“Braham…” Tivon murmured heart-felt, knowing that the Norn meant well, that he needed to vent off his anger, but this…

Braham looked at him only from his periphery, not even turning around. “I know it doesn't hurt it; just something I had to do.”

Tivon wanted to move faster, to move beside Braham, take his hand…

_ “Is this it then?” Derwen asked, “Will you play with us both?” _

Tivon stayed his hand, drowning the urge completely, hand falling limply at his side. 

“What will hurt it then? This thing looks pretty solid.” Jory let her eyes wander carefully, the ascend leading them higher and higher as the world around them spun ever so slowly. 

“We'll figure it out. Right now we have to free Trahearne from whatever fate Mordremoth has in store for him here.” Sgileas answered curtly and as they reached the top platform, waiting for it to align with the advance, he nodded over toward Faolain, “and finally put her out of her misery.”

“You cannot stop the inevitable. You cannot silence the pulse of this world.” Faolain drawled, body moving cat-like over the ground, large legs moving in front of each other and shoulders and head hanging low as if ready to pounce. As she moved she revealed something behind her, a large, curled vine that was attached to the long-dead bark of the tree, leading to—

“Trahearne.” Sgileas said, and Tivon felt the pain of his voice crack through him.

“Trahearne is ours,” Faolain chuckled and there was blast of cold, ice stretching outwards from Sgileas feet, narrowly missing those around him. The ice cracked and splintered, fractures and fractals forming on the ground as he glowered at Faolain, fingers curling into a tense half-fist.

“Not while I still breathe!” 

Faolain scowled and pounced and they all scattered to the side - all except Sgileas who stood his ground and lifted his hand over his head, a weapon in his hand that was made of naught but darkness. It seemed to draw in the light around it, shadows oozing from Sgileas’ grip, and the blade (Tivon assumed it was a blade, not knowing for sure) sunk into Faolain’s body easily. 

She gave a contorted, screeching cry that made Tivon’s ears ring and he lifted his hand, the staff by his side stabilizing him from his dodge roll to summon a wall of vines that gave a crunching noise as Faolain’s tail came swinging around. 

Sgileas gripped tighter, other hand lifting and pulling at  _ something _ , but Tivon didn’t pay it any closer mind. Instead he swung his staff once, slamming the butt of the wood onto the ground, hand extended toward where all his friends were charging straight toward the creature.

The air gave an electric hum, a loud crack and then Tivon felt the tether forming, lightning forming between them all, entwining and bonding and bouncing in between them all. There was Braham, Canach and Jory, all going all in, weapons raised. 

Faolain whipped her head around toward Braham, snarling, “Braham, how is your mother? Do give her my best.”

“By Wolf's breath, she will be avenged today!”

“I know Eir and I had our differences, but I hope she didn't think I was a thorn in her side.” Faolain crackled, but the laughter died in her throat moments after.

There was a glitter of white where Sgileas was and Tivon saw that where the blade had penetrated Faolain’s body, a prison of ice caged and trapped her in place, disallowing any movement. A massive force slammed into Faolain’s body, Braham’s mace knocking one leg clean from under her with a loud cry of frustration and the lower Vinetooth body landed on the ground with a reverberating crash. 

Jory’s greatsword dug deep into the exposed and lower side of the body, sinking in deep, and Canach’s blade struck true at Faolain’s neck. The creature struggled for a moment, massive head lifting to form another cry when Caithe appeared, having climbed atop her back without being noticed nor seen, and two daggers sinking into the back of her skull.

The shrill cry of pain and frustration silenced almost immediately and Faolain’s eyes stared up toward the sky before her entire body crashed down, and Tivon heard Jory cry, “Commander!” before a cloud of dust and dirt whirled into the air. 

There was a swarm of darkness and Sgileas came stumbling from the Shroud, purple eyes blazing and snapping toward Trahearne’s unconscious body. The legs up to his abdomen had been encased in a seed, upper body slouched over and head hanging low. 

Sgileas moved faster than any of them could interject - not that any of them would have - and Tivon was moving just as well, knowing that he could help, that he could-

A shift, a tremble, and the vine gave a shuddered and ripped free, slinging over the round and slithering away as if pulled by a foreign force, and Trahearne’s prison stirred with a jerk before being pulled toward the advance. 

“Trahearne!” Sgileas cried but Trahearne disappeared over the ledge, body dragged down below into the pond and disappearing with a splash. Tivon could only watch as the firstborn disappeared completely beneath the surface and glanced reluctantly at the Necromancer beside him.

Sgileas face was etched with desperation, fury and fear. So many emotions mixed together Tivon could feel the laden pull of them as if they were his own. 

“Not even a Firstborn deserves that…” Canach murmured after the moment of silence, and Tivon expected Sgileas to whip around, to reply in anger, but the Necromancer pulled his fingers into a tight fist, glaring at the pond below.

“Caithe, are you...?” Jory asked in the back.

“Fine,” she replied curtly, “I made peace with Faolain's death when I saw what she'd become. I'm right behind you. Just give me a moment to destroy her body.”

Sgileas didn’t protest at all. His voice was a deep, foreboding timbre when he growled, “It is time to end this.”

Tivon gulped, feeling the heavy eyes of Mordremoth on them and glanced up at Braham, wondering if having partly avenged Eir’s death had smothered some of Braham’s frustration, but when Braham’s eyes locked with his there was a frown on the Norn’s face, deep and angry, and Tivon watched as Braham turned away briskly, turning his large back to him.

It was...a feeling that dragged Tivon lower than he ever felt being, a punch to the gut that would have knocked out his knees from under him if he hadn’t clung to his staff and he felt the emotion of  _ worthlessness  _ constricting his throat, eyes averting to stare holes into the ground. 

Just...what had he  _ done _ ?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeels. So many feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeels. One more to go. Are you ready? I'm not sure I am.


	64. Hearts and Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end draws near. We have finally reached Mordremoth, and the battle draws to its final conclusion.  
> Rest assured that you'll need this *hands out tissues and chocolate* and I'll await you with a warm hug on the other side.

 

The Mordrem in his path was cut down by a curt gesture of his hand, Sgileas not paying the damned thing any mind at all. There was a hum of tension in the air, as if the Dragon could feel them intruding so deeply into its center and the tunnel bend around the side, a small stream of water splashing at his feet when Sgileas began to run.

_ Trahearne. Trahearne, Trahearne, Trahearne.  _

That was all he was capable of thinking, wanting to cut through everything in his path to get to him, and finally,  _ finally _ , the tunnel ended, revealing a horrid, ghastly view of what Mordremoth had done.

Trahearne was held aloft in his prison, seed encasing his lower body like brackets, spine bowed forward and arms hanging limply toward the ground, head hung low and lifeless. 

Sgileas was there in an instant, Shroud guiding him forward with frightening speed, the humid jungle air filling with the chill of his Death Magic. He lifted his hands and found they were shaking, his eyes searching for a sign that Trahearne was alive, and when he touched Trahearne’s arms and gripped them the firstborn gave a soft jerk, body shifting.

For a long, agonizing second Sgileas wondered what he would do if Trahearne were a Mordrem. What he would do if the yellow eyes staring back were no longer Trahearne’s at all. 

Trahearne lifted his head, leaves shifting softly as he moved, and two bleary, anguished yellow eyes blinked down at him. 

“Trahearne,” Sgileas choked out, not recognizing his voice and caring little for the others that were watching them. His hands cupped Trahearne’s cheeks as gently as he could, thumbs brushing over skin. “Trahearne.”

“Sgileas,” Trahearne whispered, voice croaking and broken, and Sgileas felt a sting in his eyes, vision turning blurry at the edges. 

“I’m here,” Sgileas leaned upward, leaned in, wanted to transmit with all he had - voice, feel, touch, breath - that he was real. “I’m here, Trahearne.” He whispered it with hot breath against Trahearne’s cheeks, his lips, and Trahearne’s mouth twitched, too weak to form a real smile.

“Sgileas,” Trahearne struggled to straighten himself, but it seemed as if his body didn’t obey, and the soft shuffle of feet behind Sgileas told him that the others were here as well. “The Pact…”

Sgileas wanted to give a choked laugh - of  _ course  _ Trahearne was concerned about that at this time, of course Trahearne clung to the Pact and its survival more than anything else - but the bitterness of his answer kept the initial response at bay. He had done the very same hadn’t he? When Tivon had found him, left to die and broken, he’d only thought of the Pact, Trahearne, the world, swimming in a sea of vague blurs of reality and distorted sounds. “All but gone,” Sgileas knew the kind of pain this answer would inflict; he’d felt it himself. This felt so very familiar, even though he had switched places. “But I...we will end this.”

“ It's too late. I know—I am part of the jungle dragon now.” Sgileas shivered at the words, barely comprehending their meaning. “It is everywhere.”

“So how do we kill it? Burn every field and fell every forest?” Braham asked behind him.

“No…” Trahearne shifted weakly and blinked at Sgileas with weary eyes. No wound Sgileas had ever sustained left this kind of raw, soul-deep impression on him as the sight of Trahearne broken and hopeless did. “it can't be defeated that way. It'll just grow back. Its roots have spread too far, too deep.”

Sgileas had come this far. He wouldn’t stop now, he would not  _ give up  _ now. “Then we destroy the root: Mordremoth's mind.” He said, voice determined and demanding, begging Trahearne to see light, hope...to have faith. “Its strongest attacks come from its mind, from the Dream. That's our target.”

**“** Sound strategy, Commander.” Canach sounded genuinely surprised and thoughtful, “Turn the tables and attack the dragon the same way it's been attacking us? Brilliant.”

The compliment fell on deaf ears. Sgileas was focussed entirely on Trahearne’s eyes as they lightened up, seeing the opportunity for what it was. The ground rumbled, the Dragon shifting somewhere beneath the earth as if in nervous anticipation like an audience did to the most dramatic reveal of a play.

“You don't need a translator to understand that—the dragon doesn't like this idea.” Canach’s smug grin could be heard through every word, savoring this small victory of having the dragon squirm.

“Yes…” Trahearne’s voice regained some strength, “strike at the dragon's mind through the Dream. It can work. And my connection will provide the access you need.” His eyes met Sgileas and the soft, weak smile playing on Trahearne’s lips almost had the stray tear in Sgileas’ eye break free, but he blinked it away briskly. The smile, the gaze...they said it all.

_ Thank you for giving me hope.  _

“I'm ready. If I concentrate, I can open a path into the Dream...into Mordremoth's mind. Your minds will make the journey, but your bodies will remain here in the cavern.”

Rytlock shifted and growled, “I've seen enough metaphysical landscapes lately. I'll stay behind to keep the Mordrem at bay.”

“I'll stay too,” Jory offered, “If something goes wrong...or Trahearne isn't what he seems to be...I'll be standing by.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sgileas said defiantly, both to the party behind them and Trahearne. 

“Sgileas…” Trahearne began and Sgileas knew this was the start of trying to convince him, but he shook his head.

“No. I’m  _ not  _ leaving you again.”

“They can not defeat the dragon alone. They need you.”

“They are strong enough without me,” 

“Yet with you, victory would be assured.” Trahearne’s voice was gentle but firm, as if he’d somehow regained his strength, “Mordremoth must be stopped.”

“We can attempt it,” Rytlock grumbled, “even if I don’t like admitting it’s a battle we’d win with you leading it.”

“You have fought an Elder Dragon before.” Sgileas argued with the Tribune.

“Yes. Once I have failed, the other I succeeded.  _ With  _ you.”

“Sgileas.” It was Trahearne and Sgileas reluctantly turned toward the firstborn. He didn’t  _ want  _ to be persuaded to leave Trahearne’s side, not even for a second. 

“No,” Sgileas said sharply, “I’ve only now gotten you back. Up until a few hours ago I wasn’t even sure…”

He didn’t finish that sentence. He did not have to. Trahearne looked sympathetic and leaned down, his Shroud oozing only ever so weakly from his skin and reaching out toward Sgileas in a soothing caress to which his own Shroud answered with a light, billowing embrace. “The world needs you,” Trahearne was whispering, words only meant for Sgileas ears, but in the quiet the voices carried still. “Tyria needs you.”

_ “Trahearne,” Sgileas voice was low, eyebrows furrowed deep. Trahearne turned around toward him, studying him with a bit of worry. “You have asked me once...why I thought we have a Wyld Hunt. Why do  _ you _ think we possess our calling?” _

_ “Are you having doubts?” Trahearne asked concerned. _

_ “No, it is not that.” Sgileas paused for a moment, having even come to a halt. Trahearne did likewise, waiting for Sgileas to continue. “I was simply curious what your answer was.” _

_ “There is no right or wrong answer,” Trahearne began. “I believe that we are given our Wyld Hunts to seek and right the wrongs of the world. We are of this world and it therefore does not seem far-fetched to me that as such we can feel its wounds and scars, and are given the power to correct it. Ultimately we are here to ease suffering of the world with the gifts that were given to us.” The firstborn stepped closer, assessing Sgileas’ reaction and lifted his hand to Sgileas’ shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Something is on your mind.” _

_ “My answer was...similar.” Sgileas murmured. “I believe we were given power to help those that can not help themselves. That the Wyld Hunt is a cry from Tyria itself, a cry for help. And I intend to answer to that call.” _

_ Trahearne nodded, the air having dissolved from grave and stifling into a calm. It was obvious Sgileas had sought to tell Trahearne his answer in search of recognition, in search of approval, even if Trahearne had wanted to avoid that.  _

_ Each of them had their answer.  _

The past flashed behind Sgileas’ eyes, the words striking hard and true. It was not only Trahearne’s words ringing in his ears. The message that the very world was at stake, that he needed to cast his own frivolous and inferior desires aside for a greater good. 

Forgal’s words echoed through his mind right alongside Trahearne’s.  _ The world needs you, Tyria's people need you. If the time with you has shown me anything, then that you will be the one to kill Zhaitan and put an end to all of this. _

He’d promised. 

After Forgal’s death, he’d promised.

_ “I will protect it.” he vowed. “On my life, I will protect Tyria and all those that live upon it.” _

Sgileas lowered his head and took a deep breath. “Then I’ll go,” he acquiesced and finally looked up again, his fingers diggings into Trahearne’s cheeks, lips inches away from Trahearne’s. If Tyria needed him, if it’s people needed him, then he would do it. “I’ll enter Mordremoth’s mind. I’ll slash it into pieces, break its coppice into kindling, sear the branches and pluck out all the roots. I’ll erase every trace of Mordremoth, and you—” 

Trahearne’s smile was enamored and his arms twitched weakly, hands lifting to rest heavy upon Sgileas shoulders, “I’ll be here,” Trahearne promised, “I’ll be here.”

“For Tyria,” Sgileas whispered and stretched his neck.

“For Tyria,” Trahearne agreed and bowed down, yellow eyes half-lidded, and finally Sgileas closed the distance, his lips brushing carefully over Trahearne’s in a chaste, longing kiss. He couldn’t tell if the sigh escaping after the anticipation was Trahearne’s or his own.

Trahearne tasted like salt, a tang of bitter spit, but underneath it all, there was still Trahearne. Still the slight taste of murky tea and sweet honey. The firstborn’s lips were parched and dry, almost scraping over his own, and Sgileas pushed in just a little more, caring little for their audience. He relished in this, having Trahearne  _ back _ .

They’d made it. Mordremoth had not managed to break them apart, had not managed to kill either of them, even if Trahearne was obviously physically and mentally exhausted, but Sgileas would see to it that the firstborn rested wholly and fully. 

Mordremoth would fall, and the world would fall back into place. 

Sgileas pulled away reluctantly when Rytlock cleared his throat, and he cast the team over his shoulders a glance. “Tivon,” he ordered and the Druid stepped forward, eyes already set.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ll look after him.” 

“See that you do.” Sgileas nodded and Tivon slowly stepped closer as if assuaging Sgileas’ reaction, but he knew that Tivon was powerful enough to nullify Mordremoth’s corruption, then Sgileas had no doubt Trahearne would live. He lifted his eyes, Trahearne studying him with a sense of pride and a smile.

“Who will you be taking with you?” Trahearne asked.

Sgileas hardly has a choice left at this point, but he was confident that even as limited as it was, victory was only a hair's breadth away. His options were Canach, Braham and Caithe.

“My mother deserves justice. And I deserve the chance to get it for her.” Braham growled, the large Norn stepping closer. “I want vengeance, but not just vengeance. My mother worked her entire life to inspire the norn to fight back against the Elder Dragons. It's my work now.”

The Norn had proven to be more tough than Sgileas had at first thought, and he’d seen the peculiar bond that had bloomed to life between him and Tivon, but that was of little consequence to his decision. “You need not convince me,” Sgileas murmured, trying not to hiss. “You are coming along.”

Braham looked surprised, a flash of anger in those blue eyes, but the Norn only curled his fingers in tightly and nodded. 

“You may not trust me, but I will not let any more sylvari become like Faolain.” Caithe stepped forward and Sgileas was reminded how close he’d come to killing her. “Better death for my people than...that.  You need me. I'm the only one besides you and Rytlock that's ever beaten an Elder Dragon. After Eir, and Faolain... You can doubt my word, but never doubt that I want the Jungle Dragon dead.”

Sgileas moved, just inches away from her, standing almost chest to chest, purple eyes squinting down at her. “You forget,” Sgileas growled, “That  _ I  _ killed Zhaitan as you stood quivering.” That was all he had to say to her, and he looked over her head toward where Canach stood.

Sgileas brushed past Caithe, waiting for Canach to make a case, even though it was obvious now that Sgileas was taking him along. Canach knew that just as well, but those dark onyx eyes still looked straight at him, giving no insight into Canach’s thoughts. “I won't appeal to you as a fellow sylvari—I leave such platitudes to the firstborn,” he smirked, and Sgileas mouth twitched, “All I have to say is I've got less to lose and more to gain than anyone else here”

Sgileas did not even attempt to dismantle that statement, not this time. To Canach it was most likely true, and throughout their whole journey Sgileas had learned one thing. “I trust you,” Sgileas said, and the flash of surprise in Canach’s eyes was a reaction at last, “Let’s take down this dragon for good.”

“Hn,” Canach snorted, “Right behind you, Commander.”

Oddly enough, this was the first time his title didn’t sound like an insult, and Sgileas turned back around to Trahearne. “We are ready.”

“Be careful,” Trahearne said, eyebrows furrowed with worry and Sgileas knew that if he inched closer again, that if he reached out to Trahearne to alleviate the worries with a touch, he’d never leave at all.

“I will.” Sgileas promised and their eyes locked for only a few seconds, but the moments stretched painfully long, reminding Sgileas that he wanted to be here with Trahearne rather than to go.

_ We’re coming to kill you, Mordremoth,  _ Sgileas thought as he closed his eyes. It felt like being sucked from his body, like falling asleep, and there was only a soft rush in his ears before his body fell, fell - only for him to never feel the destination.

 

***

 

“You should not have come here.” Mordremoth’s voice roared around Sgileas, reverberating through the stone underneath his feet. “I am everywhere, I am all.”

“Only in your mind.” Sgileas turned his head, searching for a figure that the voice belonged to, but there was only raw, gray stone, large walls that kept him trapped in a small, round space with no sign of either Braham nor Canach. “And I will reduce your mind to ashes before I'm done.”

“Bold words. But empty ones.”

“Commander,” a familiar voice said and Sgileas whirled around, glaring at Canach who had appeared out of thin air, and he felt his Shroud eagerly whisking, poised to strike. “Happy to see me, I see.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sgileas rolled his eyes and his eyes darted toward a blurry cloud, a distorsion slowly forming into contours, a silhouette, and he was beside Canach in an instant, directing the secondborn’s gaze toward the figure. 

Only it was not Mordremoth, nor any other kind of enemy Sgileas might have expected.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Canach asked, sounding exasperated, as if the picture of himself annoyed him immensely. 

“I am you.” the Blighted Canach stated haughtily, the semblance uncanny, yet with a set of varying differences. The eyes were a gleaming, burning red, the skin much darker, form much larger and broader. “What you were meant to be, what you will be: Mordremoth's loyal servant, and gladly so. You are strong, but lack focus. So you seek a master. Mordremoth is that master.”

“Is this a joke? My will has always been my own. I seek no master and never have. I am no one's servant.”

“Oh? Countess Anise would disagree. (Sgileas held back his chuckle, having thought the very same) Accept the truth: Mordremoth needs servants, and you were born to serve.”

Canach glared up at his Blighted self defiantly, “No. To redeem myself, I choose to serve. As I choose to kill you now.”

That was all the warning Sgileas had before the secondborn charged in and he raised his arm into the air, the strain of his incantation making it tremble. “Rise!” he ordered, minions that were bound to his will burrowing themselves to the surface from beneath, scrambling to their fragile-looking bony legs before charging in at Sgileas’ command. 

The Blighted Canach cackled lowly, a distorted sound that echoed throughout the whole scape, dodging Canach’s attacks and blocking them with his shield. The Blighted Canach thrusted his shield in Canach’s direction, but the secondborn moved aside nimbly, avoiding the shield-bash narrowly. 

The minions were closing in, pulling in their haunches to make one final lunge when the Blighted Canach pulled something from beneath the cover of his shield and with a gesture tossed a blinking object into the air. The explosion rippled and shattered through air and ground alike, and Sgileas stumbled back by the force of the blast.

Dust rose as a heavy, secluding veil into the air and he squinted his eyes, shadows forming weapons in his palms. There was the crunch of boots and from the cloud burst the Blighted Canach, lunging for him with his sword raised high, and Sgileas sidestepped the blade as it slit through the air, crashing vertically into the ground. 

He lifted his hand, extended it toward the Blighted Canach’s arm and felt the Death Magic entwining with the massive cold, a clear sheen of ice crystallizing clearly over the bark. When he made to shatter the frozen limb the Blighted Canach lifted his leg, barely managing to kick in Sgileas direction, and he was forced to dodge aside, relinquishing his hold. The cold magic crackled and shattered, fractured pieces clanking toward the ground. 

“Cold, isn’t he?” the Blighted Canach grunted and pulled the sword from the ground. The real Canach was already charging at the creature again and the Blighted Canach parried the blow easily, sword screeching as the blades met, “You  _ never  _ shirked an opportunity before, what’s stopping you now?”

Sgileas frowned at the exchange, but was already dashing to assist Canach who was struggling to keep his stance against the evidently stronger foe. The Blighted Canach tried to dislodge the parry, but Canach ducked beneath the blow, the tip of his sword digging into the Blighted Canach’s flank, while Sgileas shadow blade struck it in his back. 

The creature let out a howl and a dark mist arose on his skin that exploded and shoved them away, sending them flying a couple of meters. Sgileas hit the ground hard with a groan and blinked his eyes open, getting back on his feet. 

The Blighted Canach made a grunting noise, Canach’s blade still deep inside his flank, and then raised his two, gleaming red eyes to glower at them. He dropped his weapons and gripped into a pouch at his belt, revealing more blinking devices. 

Sgileas lunged out of the way in time as the grenade flew and impacted with a boom where he had stood. Splinters of stone scattered through the air and he raised his arms, trying to discern what strategy would serve them best when he saw Canach lifting his shield and swatting a grenade away briskly, caring little for the explosion beside him. 

There was something else in Canach’s expression...his eyebrows were furrowed deeply, jaw set tight and he was gritting his teeth. He looked almost...in pain, distracted.

“Canach!” Sgileas yelled over the crackling and bombarding explosives, “I need some cover!”

Dark onyx eyes snapped toward him and he could see Canach drag in a harsh breath. Had he been injured? Canach even seemed to limp, body hunched forward, “Un—understood.”

Sgileas dodged another grenade that flew by his head and Canach very nearly stumbled, but Sgileas caught his shoulders. The secondborn raised himself immediately as if trying to hide that he was battling with something. “Canach?” Sgileas asked and Canach let out a grunt that sounded both in pain and annoyed.

”Mordremoth's squeezing hard, but I won't break.” He growled and finally lifted his eyes to look at him as the ground shuddered in the wake of another explosion, “Get behind me, Commander. I'll deflect the grenades.”

Canach gripped his shoulder and hauled him around, keeping him behind him and raised his shield, both of them cowering behind it. The clank of grenades was almost distant in Sgileas’ ears, trying to catch a glimpse of the Blighted Canach’s position through the fog of dust. It was difficult to make out, but he could see the gleam of those two red eyes swishing in between the clouds. 

“Why do you resist?” The Blighted Canach roared, a piece of scattered stone scraped over Sgileas cheek. He flinched, but didn’t move. “It could  _ all  _ be yours, if you only grasped it.”

Sgileas saw it wear Canach down, saw the tension rise in his shoulders, the sudden violent shake of his body, and then Canach groaned and stumbled backwards. Sgileas caught him in his arms and lifted his Shroud as a temporary defense, searching Canach’s face with his eyes. “Canach,” Sgileas called, but the secondborn looked disoriented, hazy, as if caught by a sudden fever that deteriorated his senses, “Canach!”

Sgileas shook him once, twice, and then Canach’s eyes blinked and became clearer, meeting his own. “I can't...block the fire grenades...can't think.” Canach’s eyebrows made deep crinkles and the secondborn shook his head, “Is Mordremoth affecting me?” he asked quietly, more himself than anything.

“Canach,” Sgileas tried again, his grip on Canach’s shoulders firming. Canach gulped and looked...guilty and defeated. 

“Sorry, Commander. I'm...doing my best.”

Sgileas had never seen Canach so torn down, vulnerable, and he grasped the outer part of Canach’s shield and squeezed it against the secondborn’s chest, “Shield yourself,” Sgileas ordered and Canach nodded, heaving himself to his knees. 

He looked weak, as if it took every ounce of will and strength he had to even crouch, and Sgileas rose to his feet and charged off in the other direction. The sound of explosions followed him, but just as he could barely see where the Blighted Canach was, his enemy was in a similar bind. 

It was curious that the Blighted Canach did not even  _ bother  _ to throw grenades in Canach’s direction. Was it the sudden proximity to Mordremoth, the fact that they were in the Dragon’s Mind through the Dream that made its voice so much more potent, that the Blighted Canach believed Canach would be converted after all? 

With a throwing motion Sgileas send a crescent stream of magic toward the Blighted Canach that cracked through the air like a whip, hitting it’s target from the side before dissolving into shadow. The Blighted Canach gave a frustrated cry, the volley of grenades having stopped for only a moment. 

“A whip?” The Blighted Canach taunted with a growl, “No wonder  _ he  _ gets ideas.”

Sgileas swung his other arm, another whip-like string of shadows lurching toward the Blighted Canach, and he heard from the sudden, distorted gasp and choke that it curled tightly around the Blighted Canach’s throat. The eyes disappeared, most likely closed, and Sgileas stepped back and pulled viciously. He felt the resistance only briefly before he heard the massive creature stumble and as he charged forward to extradite the moment of vulnerability, to exact a finishing strike, he heard a loud cry that pierced through the whole scape. 

He lurched to a halt, stones scattering at his feet and whirled toward where Canach was on the ground, barely a dark silhouette on the ground, but Sgileas could see that Canach’s hands were covering his ears, that his mouth was wide open, that Canach had been the one who had screamed. 

“Canach—” Sgileas began when he felt the sudden pull and the shadow didn’t dissolve in time. The whip was pulled tautly and he was pulled from his feet, careening through the air before landing with another painful grunt on the floor. 

There was the sound of steps and Sgileas lifted himself with a hiss, throwing a shadowy hand toward the approaching Blighted Canach, the hand hitting and squeezing around the creature’s arm. Another followed, squeezing the leg, another, another, until the Blighted Canach was pulled from his feet, fighting off the shadows that tore him to the ground, and Sgileas scrambled over the uneven floor, dodging the great craters the grenades have left, dashing toward Canach’s side. His knees scraped on the floor as he slithered closer, his hands pulling at Canach’s shoulders.

“Canach. Canach.  _ Canach! _ ”

Canach didn’t respond, his body felt nerveless and limp when it fell against his. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, droplets trickled down the side of his temple and his breath came in heaving, rasping gasps. 

“It's,” Canach began, eyelids fluttering, but never really opening, “...too much...can't control myself...can't trust myself.”

“Are you giving up?” Sgileas hissed, “Didn’t you say you had nothing more to lose, and everything to gain? Where’s your damned arrogance and insolence when you need it?”

Canach’s eyes finally,  _ finally  _ blink open. “I…” Canach tried, but his eyes glided down toward his shield and he grasped it tightly, thrusting it with an uncoordinated movement in Sgileas’ direction, “Here: take my shield.” Sgileas just stared, and Canach’s forced the shield against him one more time, “Take my shield and finish him!”

Sgileas took the shield from Canach’s clammy and trembling fingers and slowly lowered Canach onto the ground with his other arm, his Shroud hissing defiantly when a grenade evaporated in his magic. When he glared over his shoulder the Blighted Canach stood proudly, red eyes gleaming in a grim satisfaction. 

A grenade lingered in his hand, and slowly the Blighted Canach poised it to throw, “He’ll be one of us,” he crooned, “it is his destiny.”

The grenade swished through the air and Sgileas jumped, shield slammed against the grenade and changed its trajectory right back at the Blighted Canach who raised his arms to shield himself from the blast. The explosion rippled through the air and Sgileas bounced back from his feet, lunging forward and slammed the shield into the creature’s exposed side.

The Blighted Canach was tackled to the ground and Sgileas fell atop the creature, one knee slamming into the Blighted Canach’s sternum, the other landing on his shoulder. The air was pressed from the creature with a choked noise and Sgileas lifted his hand and thrust down, the small shadow blade forming at his knuckles sinking into the tender bark under the Blighted Canach’s chin. 

He pulled his hand over to the side, throat slit wide open, sap oozed into a pool on the floor. The red, gleaming eyes widened and the creature tried to grip Sgileas, to choke him or throw him off, Sgileas wasn’t sure, but it was futile anyhow. 

The hand passed right through him as shadows envelop his form, only the purple gleam on his eyes remaining, watching as the life drained from the Mordrem beneath him. The Blighted Canach opened his mouth, but only a gurgle escaped him and Sgileas rose to his feet, eyes glided to where Canach laid on the ground still, motionless and quiet.

There was a glint in the corner of his eyes and Sgileas saw a streaming light emit from a crack, and despite not knowing its origin, he  _ knew  _ it was a crack in Mordremoth’s mind that he had caused. An escape, a venue.

He was beside Canach in an instant,with one arm slung around his shoulder and back he lifted the warrior to his feet. Canach groaned in his ear, feet shuffling helplessly as if he had forgotten how to walk. “A little help here,” Sgileas berated, trying to find some kind of resonance so that Canach could summon annoyance or anger - anything really - to restore some of his energy, “or I could simply dump you here.”

“Ha,” Canach laughed, but it was raspy, weak and contained very little of his sarcastic demeanour, “Caring, as always.” 

It worked. Canach managed to walk more upright, his legs quivered partially, but holding most his weight. “There’s a rift in the dreamscape,” Sgileas nodded towards the small crack on the ground and the light it emitted, “If we widen it, we’ll crack Mordremoth’s mind.”

He knew that under normal circumstances Canach would object and argue, ask him  _ how  _ he knew this, but it’s only one more sign that showed how exhausted he was when all he did was nod. Their feet crunched on the ground until they finally reached the rift and Sgileas knelt down, carefully easing Canach down beside him. They exchanged a glance and then both reached into the rift.

The pulse of it was overwhelming, running up Sgileas’ arm like electricity, warm and almost scalding, but he pushed in deeper and closed his eyes in concentration, slowly tearing the crack open. Canach beside him made a strangled noise and Sgileas steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze, before the warmth began to spread outward, the light flickering even behind his eyelids.

It grew larger and larger, pulses washed over him and cleansed his mind like a purge.

“Commander…” Canach whispered and Sgileas turned his head, saw Canach’s features illuminated by the white light as it encased them both, the ground, their surroundings, a sheen of white devouring everything. “I…”

The light nearly blinded him and he closed his eyes - and when he opened them, Canach was gone. 

 

***

 

“I can’t get you out,” Tivon murmured in apology and let his hands fall uselessly to his side, “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be,” Trahearne said, the yellow gleam of his eyes so very tired, a slow pulse of life that was dimmed, “Mordremoth is holding on...trying to—” The firstborn groaned, head falling forward, breaths coming in staccato, heavy gasps. A moment passed by in which Tivon did the only thing he could - he raised his hand to Trahearne’s shoulder and squeezed it. Slowly Trahearne’s condition stabilized again and the firstborn breathed easier, “trying to hold on to the last strands. It knows we have it cornered, it knows we will win.”

“Then...should it not be weakening?”

“It has planted a seed inside me,” Trahearne gazed up, a pitiful expression on his face that was full of sorrow and anguish. “It’s driven a thorn deep into my consciousness.”

“I can attempt to palliate it,” Tivon offered and Trahearne mustered him for a moment before he gave a weary nod. Tivon lifted his arms high into the air, fingertips brushed over Trahearne’s cheeks as gilded light formed over his palm, warm and almost fluffy, puffed out against Trahearne’s skin. The firstborn closed his eyes, eyebrows already relaxing, the tight clench of his jaw easing. 

Tivon could feel all the blemishes on body and mind alike; he could feel the turmoil in Trahearne’s head, Mordremoth’s presence inside, hiding away like an insidious parasite. It’s corruption pulsed heady and heavy, a stifling miasma that poisoned everything it reached - and all that held it back was Trahearne’s strength of will. 

He reached inside as best he could, grasping the tendrils and branches of Mordremoth’s corruption, power slowly nullifying the weaker strands. It took all of his focus and concentration, the strands that he could reach slippery and hard to grasp with his magic, but he didn’t relent, incessantly tugging out the weed bit by bit. 

“Remarkable,” Trahearne whispered and Tivon looked up at the firstborn, having closed his eyes to concentrate better, “I am not certain you can cast Mordremoth away completely, but…”

“I am going to try,” Tivon said with determination, “I am not letting you die this day, Trahearne.”

“Mordremoth would live...live  _ inside  _ me.”

Tivon was not sure if it was fear, terror, or simply information the firstborn wanted to get across. He could only imagine what kind of daunting task it must be to have an Elder Dragon rooted deep within your mind, and he could never ask of anyone to live through such a fate. Yet...that was not really a choice any longer, was it? If Trahearne died…

Sgileas would be shredded into pieces. 

“I can’t imagine what it is like to carry that burden,” Tivon gulped and held the weary gaze of Trahearne’s eyes, “but Sgileas won’t let you carry it alone.”

“He won’t,” Trahearne agreed, “and there is still some fight in me left.”

“Then...do you have advice for me? How can I help you best?”

“You have told me of the Celestial Avatar. Have you attempted tapping into that power?”

“Not in a long time.”

Trahearne smiled encouragingly, “Then perhaps now is the time.”

Tivon closed his eyes, invoking the powers he knew lay within. When the warmth began to spread through his limbs and his mind began to clear he knew he would try all that he could - to contribute to this battle, to fight Mordremoth, and most importantly, so that there was no other casualty in this war. 

So that he could avert Trahearne’s prolonged suffering, so that he could stop the Dragon from lingering in their lives. 

So that in all this mess, there would be a happy ending at last.

 

***

 

Tedious. Sgileas and Braham were fighting a Blighted Eir who did nothing but taunt Braham, enraging the norn more and more to the point where the Guardian became not only a nuisance, making constant mistakes in movement, but also endangering Sgileas as he tried to move around Braham. 

“Thanks to you, my legend ended in failure—fallen, forgotten, and far from home.” Eir called, her bow pulled taut and ready, tracking their movements with practised ease, the gleam of her red eyes trailing after them as the moved and dodged Garm’s fangs.

“I'm done listening to these lies. You're not my mother—you're Mordremoth's toy.” Braham spat the words out through gritted teeth and made to lunge toward Eir, but Garm leaped into him, colliding with him and tearing him to the ground with an audible thud. 

Braham struggled on the ground, his large hand pushing Garm’s massive snout away, the animal’s long, jagged teeth snapping down to catch skin in between. Braham managed to push Garm off, rolling onto his side, his broad hand squeezing the wolf’s body against the ground and raised his mace, bringing it down onto the animal’s skull.

Sgileas only ever heard the crack and the low cry from Eir, her bow poised to shoot Braham in the back when Sgileas impaled her on a wisp of shadow, the tails of his Shroud hissing lowly. She gasped and stared at the spiked shadow blade protruding from her chest before she collapsed. 

Braham rose to his feet, blood splattered over his leather jerkin and his eyes fornwed down at Eir’s body. “It wasn’t her.”

“No kidding.”

Braham flared up in anger, blue flames rushing over his wrists and hands as if in warning, but Sgileas only squinted his eyes. Was the norn dumb enough to attempt to attack him? “Have you no respect for the dead?”

“Don’t be petty,” Sgileas snarled, “Eir died. This was not her. What use is artificial pity?”

“This is not about that.”

“Then speak plain or keep quiet. Either way we have no time for this; there: A rift opened.”

Braham followed him reluctantly, clenching his fists at his sides. For a moment Sgileas had thought Braham would punch him - the norn had always reminded him more of a temperamental rocket than anything else - but thankfully, he had not attempted. He would not have had the patience to sort it out with Braham then. 

“She was a great hunter and ally,” Braham said instead, keeping up with him easily as he made his way toward the rift, “she died for this battle.”

“As did many others.”

“But she-”

“Was  _ your  _ mother,” Sgileas snapped, “not  _ mine _ . Spare me the talk of injustice and guilt. You can choose to mourn her death or follow me and avenge her.” Sgileas came to a halt in front of the crack on the ground, a white, gleaming light emitting from it, “The choice is yours.”

Braham grit his teeth and held his eyes for a moment, and Sgileas could see the pure distaste and hatred gleaming there, plain and bare, before Braham collected himself and gave a tight nod. “Right. After you,  _ Commander _ .”

Even Canach never managed to make it sound like a threat quite like that, Sgileas thought as he pushed his hand into the rift and Braham did the same. The gleam erupted into streams of light and blinded them and then the world dissolved around them in a clean slate of white.

 

***

 

“Are you alright?” Caithe’s voice barely came through the ringing in his ears and Tivon lifted his eyes, eyelids feeling heavy. 

“Yeah, just… Mordremoth is fighting back.”

“The Mordrem have stopped coming though,” Jory sheathed her greatsword that was plattered with golden sap and some coppice. Rytlock came back just behind her, his pelt looking glued together in spots, but both of them seemed uninjured. 

“Is it concentrating on you then?” Caithe asked, but it was Trahearne who answered.

“Yes and no. It is concentrating on the invading forces upon its mind. Sgileas and the others must be wearing it down.”

“Then this is your chance.” Caithe encouraged Tivon and even though the power had drained and left him exhausted he gave a nod. He forgot both space and time in the Celestial Avatar, the consequence of both becoming marginal. It could have been seconds, minutes, even hours - and he would not have been able to tell the difference. 

“Don’t exert yourself,” Trahearne murmured, but his voice sounded already stronger, much more grounded even though Tivon knew how heavy a weight Mordremoth was. “Mordremoth will exploit any weakness it can find.”

“How much longer are they staying in there?” Rytlock grumbled, eyeing the bodies that lay sprawled on the jungle floor before them. 

As if in answer the ground began to tremble, shudder, and then from deep beneath the earth, reverberating through every speck of dust and through every dug-in root came Mordremoth’s roar. It shook the ground beneath their feet, nearly making them all stumble and fall, and even as Tivon whirled around in search for an approaching enemy, there was none.

The roar ebbed into silence, a long winded echo that he only now understood. 

They’d done it. Sgileas and the others, they had-

On cue their bodies stirred and Sgileas rose from the ground, his eyes searching for a moment. He looked confused before his eyes settled on Trahearne, then he was up on his feet in an instant, rushing toward the firstborn’s side. 

“You did it! Two dragons down, four to go.” Rytlock cheered, but Sgileas barely seemed to hear. Tivon stepped aside instantly, letting Sgileas closer to his lover, and tried not to watch them meekly from the corner of his eye. 

“We did it,” Sgileas told Trahearne with a hush, pride filling his voice and a small smile playing at his lips, “Mordremoth is dead.”

“Truly dead. I can't hear its voice in my head. It's completely gone.” Canach commented thoughtfully, “And we sylvari are still here, still...us. I wasn't sure…”

“We will get you out of there,” Sgileas murmured to Trahearne, his hands squeezing the firstborn’s shoulders before he gave Tivon a look, eyes fixed on an object somewhere behind him. He turned around and spotted Caladbolg amidst a sea of twigs and thorns, kept there and hidden, but now that Mordremoth’s power was ceasing and disappearing, the landscape seemed to wither around them. 

Tivon marched toward it, gingerly treading in between the thorns and pulled the sword from its thorned sheath, feeling the hum of its power as it gauged him as a wielder. It was fitting he supposed that it would be Caladbolg that would cut Trahearne free entirely and he turned back around, making his way toward the pair.

“I still hear its voice,” Trahearne confessed to Sgileas, voice infinitely sad, “Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige...a terrible seed planted deep in my mind.”

“Tivon, he-”

“It is not Mordremoth’s magic. It is Mordremoth himself. No magic in the world can nullify the existence of an Elder Dragon.”

Sgileas leaned further in, vehemence making his voice tremble. “I am  _ not _ letting you die, Trahearne.”

“It…” Trahearne lowered his head, “it would be the easiest and most merciful solution. It would persist and infest my mind and I… am not certain for how long the seed can remain without corrupting me.”

“We will find a way,” Sgileas insisted, “Don’t give up on us. On  _ me _ . I know you can fight this.”

Trahearne considered the words visibly, the anguish of indecision clear upon his weary features. Tivon stood rooted with Caladbolg in hand, holding his breath, waiting for this part to play out - he wished he was more powerful, but all that he could do was keep Mordremoth’s corruption at bay, but not the Elder Dragon itself. 

When Trahearne did not answer for a painful long moment, Tivon could see the glint of tears in Sgileas’ eyes and the Necromancer cupped Trahearne’s cheeks with his hands. “I’m not letting you die.” he repeated in a rush of urgency and heartfelt longing and Tivon felt a clench in his chest, his eyes averted towards the ground, towards a large pair of boots that stood a couple of feet away. 

Braham. 

Their eyes met even though Tivon didn’t know what to think, much less what to do. So all he did was stare, the stinging and squeezing in his chest turning painful. 

“Sgileas...it’s not about us.” Trahearne argued softly, “it’s about Tyria and Tyria will never be safe with the threat of Mordremoth resurfacing through me. I can’t...I  _ won’t  _ allow it.”

“I’m not...I can’t kill you.” Sgileas choked.

“No,” a voice agreed and they all whirled toward the cave entrance where Derwen stood, the Bifrost held high. “ _ You _ can’t.” The Mesmer stepped forward and slammed the butt of the staff into the ground. There was a brilliant light that blinded them for an instant, a cascade of colours followed by a sheet of purple that settled over them all and suddenly Tivon found that his limbs wouldn’t move, that his body would not obey, that he couldn’t even  _ twitch _ . 

The pure and utter terror he saw in the faces of the others showed him that they fared the very same - immobilized and trapped on the spot, unable to lift even a single finger. 

“But  _ I  _ can.”

“You-” Sgileas managed to growl out, but even the Necromancer was unable to shed from the veil the Mesmer had cast. 

“Derwen.” Trahearne breathed, the note of surprise clear even through the familiarity of the name.

“Trahearne,” Derwen greeted, more politely and with no hint of his usual derision, “it should be a pleasant surprise for us both, no?”

“Indeed,” Trahearne answered, poignant and thoughtful.

“If you make a move,” Sgileas threatened, the mere effort it took to speak making him tremble, “I  _ will  _ kill you.”

Derwen ignored him and moved upward, past all the others that stood immobilized, slowly making his way to Tivon’s side. Tivon’s eyes widened and he tried to speak, but his lips barely even parted, let alone made a noise. 

The Mesmer glanced down at him, dark-white eyes full of emotion. There was contemplation, sadness, a kind of stark anguish Tivon had never seen in those eyes before, and slowly Derwen leaned forward and his lithe, dark fingers brushed over Tivon’s hand, prying the fingers gingerly from Caladbolg’s hilt before he took it in his hand. 

“No,” Tivon croaked out and Derwen smiled sadly,

“I’m afraid so.”

Derwen lifted his hand and touched Tivon’s cheek and he felt a warmth spread through the fibers there, allowing him to speak, “Don’t do this,” Tivon begged, green eyes supplicating, “you don’t have to-”

Derwen silenced him with a long, chaste kiss. Tivon gasped when his breath was suddenly stolen, the rest of his body trapped and immobilized and unable to respond. Derwen’s lips were warm and soft against his own, caring and cherishing, carrying messages of longing and regret. 

By the Pale Tree, so much  _ regret _ .

A hand came to rest on Tivon’s neck, fingers curling into the branches there, fingertips digging into his bark. Tivon felt the shiver travel over his spine, body refusing to move. If the magic would not have held him in place he would have felt the wobbling of his legs, the buckling of his knees, the weakness of his body to stand. 

It was slow and light, every protest dying in the back of Tivon’s throat, and he couldn’t - didn’t want to  _ deny  _ this. He wanted this to last, for the ominous, foreboding expectation that left a thrill in his fibers to be untrue, for this to be all there was. 

Derwen’s other hand came to rest on the small of his back, thumb circling against the leaves that covered his bark, rustling softly. Sound seemed to have faded away almost and Tivon had closed his eyes, relishing the feeling while it lasted.

It felt like too much of a goodbye not to.

When the Mesmer pulled away Tivon was breathless, eyes fluttering open and he didn’t remember how to form words. Derwen’s eyes sparkled white, pattern a low but powerful thrum, and Tivo’s lips quivered when he opened them, but Derwen planted a long, lithe finger over them, effectively silencing him.

“Don’t,” Derwen whispered, voice pleading. “I have to do this.”

Caladbolg. Trahearne.

“No.” Tivon said, but Derwen was leaving, was pulling away. “No, Derwen—” Derwen turned away, Caladbolg in his one, Bifrost in his other hand. “Derwen,  _ don’t _ .” Tivon tried again, forcing himself against the restraining magic that kept him in place, but it held him firmly and steadily. Thorns, he wanted to reach out, to curl his fingers around Derwen’s arm and keep him  _ back _ , but his body wouldn’t move. 

The Mesmer glanced over his shoulder ruefully before he stepped in front of the trapped firstborn, gazing up toward Trahearne who remained trapped yet unaffected by Derwen’s spell. 

“Don’t you dare.” Sgileas hissed, Shroud billowing in a threatening manner. The Necromancer had managed to lean forward slightly, whole body trembling to move. Tivon could see that Sgileas even managed to clench his fingers and move his arms by inches. “Don’t you  _ dare _ .”

Derwen mustered Sgileas derogatorily, all rue suddenly washed away. “Perhaps I should kill you both. Neither would have to live without the other.”

“Derwen,” Trahearne intervened, voice unbelievably soft, a weak smile playing at his lips. How could he smile at a time like this? “We both know that is not what you are here for.”

Derwen inspected Caladbolg for a moment before he lifted it, its tip poised over the center of Trahearne’s chest, “You are right.” 

There was an eruption of sounds.

“Don’t-!” 

“No!”

“Derwen!”

“Stop!”

And the sound of a blade sinking into flesh, blade digging deep into Trahearne’s chest. The firstborn gasped and Derwen pushed the blade further, sinking it deep. 

No. 

No, no,  _ no _ . 

What had he  _ done _ ? Oh by the Pale Tree, Tivon couldn’t think, couldn’t  _ believe - _

There was an otherworldly, guttural roar and an explosion of darkness that enveloped them all, the blast of it ruffling through Tivon’s hair and armour. He lifted his hands to protect himself against the sudden gust of wind that shattered Derwen’s magic apart and heard only a gasp of pain before the darkness lifted.

Sgileas had lifted his hand, and impaled upon it on a few tiny, dark spikes was Derwen, gasping and sputtering for breath. The spikes disappeared deep into Derwen’s chest, effectively lifting him off the ground a few inches. 

Tivon waited an agonizing second for the illusion to shatter, for the magic to dissolve in the mesmeric fashion it so often did, but this…

A painfully long second went by.

And another.

Pale Mother—

It was  _ real _ . 

The Mesmer lifted his hand towards where the shadow spikes sunk deeply into his chest and met Sgileas’ menacing eyes with a choked breath and a deep frown before the Necromancer withdrew his hand as well as the spikes. Derwen landed on his wobbly feet, knees buckling just slightly and groaning in pain. 

He gasped and staggered but before he could recuperate and regain his balance Sgileas slashed diagonally with his hand, a crescend blade appearing from thin air like a scythe, and Tivon screamed, he was moving, dashing forward with his hand extended, but it was all not fast enough, not  _ enough _ .

It was like Tivon had been transported back in time; back on the  _ Breachmaker _ when Sgileas had made the  _ very same  _ movement, when Sgileas had taken  _ Derry  _ from him.

Sgileas’ hand whisked through the air, the blade following the motion and cut a large gap into Derwen’s chest, tearing his torso open. Sap splattered to the side, leaving a spotted trail of gold on the ground. The Mesmer fell back in almost slow-motion, body tilting and Tivon caught him in his arms, the weight and force pulling him down to his knees.  

His one hand held Derwen’s back around his shoulders, the other flew to Derwen’s chest where the sap glistened from within, pooling and oozing, dripping down the sides through the leaves of Derwen’s armour, and Tivon felt the sting of tears in his eyes, the sight before him becoming blurry.

“Derwen, no, no…” He chanted and tried to conjure his magic, the gilded light dying in his palm when Derwen’s weak fingers squeezed his hand that was covered, wet and sticky in sap.  _ Derwen’s  _ sap. 

Their eyes met and Tivon saw that Derwen desperately tried to breathe, tried to speak, and the tears flowed freely from Tivon’s eyes over his cheeks. 

“Derwen,” Tivon whispered his name like an incantation, as if the name itself were a prayer that could undo the gaping wound Sgileas had cut into Derwen’s skin. “Derwen, you’re— I’m— I can—”

Derwen squeezed  _ harder _ , unable to form words, the sounds escaping him scratching and gasping. His chest stuttered from each dragged-in breath and his white-dark eyes never left Tivon’s, their glow pulsing in staccato bursts. Derwen looked at him with the desperation of a dying man, trying to get out his last few words, clinging to the sight of Tivon as if it was a life-line.

Tivon struggled with his hand, part of him wanted to hold on, but if he didn’t  _ attempt  _ to heal him then he would never know, but Derwen’s fingers clutched his tightly, holding on, keeping his hand trapped.

“Derwen-” Tivon choked out, tears flowing freely now, “Let me- Let me-”

Derwen’s mouth opened, lips twitching and quivering and Tivon could follow the exact moment the breath left Derwen, the moment the life drained from his eyes. Derwen’s eyes turned foggy and glassy, suddenly staring through him, and then his head grew heavy and tilted backwards, hanging limply.  

The pressure on Tivon’s hand lessened, dark, lithe fingers unwinding from their vice-like grip, hand falling onto Derwen’s chest where it slid down the side and landed on the ground. 

“No,” Tivon breathed and shook Derwen’s body, “No, no, Derwen, no-”

Derwen’s eyes stared toward the sky, dark and empty. The glow had faded from his eyes, his face, his bark, and his body was nerveless and still. No breath heaved his chest, no finger twitched, the pulse of his pattern extinguished.

“No,” Tivon tried again, voice broken. He leaned forward, tears dripping from his chin, splattering across the expanse of Derwen’s chest.

It…

It could not be true.

It could  _ not be true _ .

Tivon choked out a sob and lowered Derwen’s body to the ground with great care. His trembling hands cupped Derwen’s cheeks gingerly as if he was afraid of breaking him, but there was no response to his touch.

His hands quivered when he conjured his magic, but even as the gilded light illuminated Derwen’s features and sunk into his skin, even as Tivon dug deeper in search for a connection between body, mind, with the soul, he felt there was only an empty, hollowed out husk left.

Derwen was…

He was—

Tivon bowed forward, forehead leaning down to touch Derwen’s, a pained wail escaping his throat that echoed through the jungle and the caves’ walls in a stretched cry of torment, agony, and loss. It was shrill and piercing, like the very splinters Tivon felt lodged into his soul. 

When the cry faded his throat felt sore and raw, but he sobbed and cried nonetheless, the pain of his heart and mind transcending that of his body. His fingers clutched into Derwen’s skin, holding on for dear life, and Tivon couldn’t withdraw himself. He shook and cowered, face an expression of agony and suffering, bowed forward over his love with naught but the mantle of his body. 

Time passed by seamlessly, endlessly, yet Tivon felt trapped in this one moment. The moment of truth realized by his mind, but not yet understood by his heart.

That Derwen was...he was  _ gone _ .

His sobs came louder now, hiccupping through his chest and making his whole body tremble. 

“Derwen.” he tried, voice breaking. 

Derwen didn’t move.

Gone. Gone.  _ Gone _ .

Tivon’s fingers eased their clawing grip, fingers brushing carefully and tenderly, thumb drawing circles into the skin.

But Derwen didn’t move.

Dead. Dead.  _ Dead _ .

  
  


Why? 

  
  


By the Pale Tree,  _ why _ ?

  
  


Why had Derwen done this? Why had any of them done this?

Tivon felt as if he’d been flipped inside out, everything inside him carved wide open, raw and weather-worn, ready to be swept away by the churning sea. Self-reproach and guilt ate him up inside, filling him to the brim and choking his throat, constricting it with brackets of steel.

He’d done  _ nothing _ to prevent any of this, he’d contributed  _ nothing _ to save either of them.

Either.

_ Trahearne. _

Tivon glanced up through his tears and saw Sgileas kneeling on the ground just a meter away, Trahearne’s body clutched in his arms in a grip that showed the sharp contours of his arms as they trembled. Sgileas’ body was shaking, shoulders hitching, and just faintly Tivon could hear sobs and whispers spoken so lowly and feathery, as if a word spoken too loud would break the moment apart and tear it from the realm of all that was surreal - as if a word too loud would make it  _ real _ . 

Trahearne’s body was almost encased by Sgileas, the Necromancer embracing the firstborn tightly and his Shroud did the very same, protectively forming around them both. Small strands of dark magic searched for contact with Trahearne’s skin, and Tivon could not help the impression that through that ginger caress the Shroud was probing for a reaction, a sign of life, and mourning just as well. 

Tivon choked out another sob and lowered his gaze, unable to take the sight without feeling that he was being torn in two. 

The dying glint of the Bifrost caught his eye only briefly where it rested beside Derwen’s body. Derwen had held on to it even in his last moments and only relinquished it when life had drained from him, where it had clanked to the ground from his nerveless fingers. 

Tivon’s thumb brushed over Derwen’s cheek, the bark turning cold underneath his touch. There was no bringing back the dead, even Tivon knew, yet he refused to believe it was true, refused to believe this was all that he could do. He kept pouring magic into Derwen’s skin, into the fibers in an attempt to rejuvenate and breathe life into them, but everything remained cold and quiet. 

And so very, very still. 

Tivon’s head lifted just slightly to gaze into Derwen’s eyes, but there were empty and unseeing, and the sight of that tore his soul into a million sharp pieces, scattering them to the wind. It left him feeling empty and infinitely morose, a deep, dark pit opening inside that sucked him in.

Something fluttered from the corner of his eye, falling in a gentle swish of pink onto Derwen’s chest. Tivon glanced down just in time to see another petal gliding down and saw the pendant swinging from his neck, petals withering and slowly falling off one by one.

His hand enveloped the petal that hung from his neck and he tried to hold on, to keep it together, but at the simple touch it came apart in his palm, petals flowing over his fingers in a cascade of shrivelled brown. They scattered over Derwen’s chest and between Tivon’s fingers stuck only the one, sap glueing it to his palm.

He stared at it, tears flowing freely now. He was unable to make them stop - wasn’t even sure why he would bother to try. 

It was both metaphor and painful reminder. Only the hollow feeling in his chest remained, a vacuum that sucked in all emotion to keep him from falling apart right then and there. He felt beside himself, a watcher to a great tragedy, his brain searching for another explanation rather than to accept the cruel reality.

Ever so careful he closed his fingers around the petal, keeping it enclosed and safe in his palm while his other hand reached for the Bifrost. It gave only a soft pulse of recognition that it was being wielded, a warmth spreading through his fingertips before the flash died away, recognizing he was not Derwen.

_ He is dead, _ he thought, foolishly believing the staff would have a connection enough to care, and foolish enough to believe the staff had a consciousness enough to understand. 

It hummed saldy, a vibration that was so soft only Tivon felt it, and right then he felt much less a fool. The staff’s pulse ebbed away until it lay blank, and Tivon felt hopeless once again. 

“Tiv…” a hesitant, soft voice murmured behind him, the crunch of soles on the ground evidence that someone was behind him. “We’re...here for you.”

It was Jory. Her words were hesitant and careful, but a voice in Tivon’s head screamed, raging against the constraints of his closed lips,  _ You all wanted him dead.  _

Tivon didn’t answer. The was only a little comfort that he could gain, and he found it by holding on to the last petal and the Bifrost, two things that had been Derwen’s. 

He didn’t trust his voice, he didn’t trust that his friends truly felt sorry. A feigned comfort. 

They would all relish this, wouldn’t they? They’d all wanted Derwen dead and now…

The dark-white eyes stared into the sky, unmoving and cold. 

Derwen had looked at him with such desperation. He’d wanted to tell him his last words, and now Tivon would never know. 

The many “What if’s” went through his head. What if he had gone with Derwen from the start? What if he had taken him back after he had returned? Would any of this have been different?

Tivon understood so very little. All he knew was that his very first love lay dead before him, and that the company he kept had made it so. 

His fingers tightened around the Bifrost and gleamed as if resonating with him, glowing white once again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Tiv?”

Tivon stared down at Derwen’s body for a few seconds, each second dragging into a long, endless lifetime filled with the pain that squeezed his chest, before he finally managed to tear his eyes away. He glanced over toward where Sgileas still knelt with Trahearne in his arms.

They’d both lost so much today.

And they were both equally to blame. How was Tivon to look at Sgileas again without seeing him slay his love? How was he to ever gaze into Sgileas’ eyes and not feel the boiling anger and fury that he desperately tried to control? 

Vengeance was such a fickle thing. Tivon had learned that much, at least.

Yet he could not help the urge. He wanted to scream at Sgileas for acting the way he had, even though he knew how very understandable it had been. That was the worst, wasn’t it? Knowing that Derwen’s death had been _ justified _ . 

“I’m so, so sorry.” A sob escaped him once again, his forehead sinking down. 

He couldn’t forgive Sgileas for what he had done. He couldn’t forgive his friends for wanting the same thing. He couldn’t take their pity even though he knew they relished that Derwen was  _ dead _ . 

“Tiv.” Jory’s voice was soothing and he felt more than saw the presence of Braham approaching. Wanting to be there for him, even though they’d all wanted this. 

_ Braham’s fingers curled tightly around Derwen’s throat. _

Had they ever even thought what it would do to him if Derwen died? He must have known somehow, deep deep down because he had refused to let it happen.

Knowing it would tear him apart even more than whatever Derwen could ever do to him.

“No,” he whispered and blinked through the tears up at Jory, hoping she at least would understand, “Please. Just...leave me be.”

“We’re here for you,” Jory repeated and sounded more sure and sensitive this time, “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

_ And what do you understand of my grief? What have you ever understood of my feelings for him?  _

Despite his rage that welled up inside, unspooling in curls of heat and hatred and despair, he swallowed it down, disallowed its power to get a hold of him before it was too late. They were his friends. Just not...right now. This they couldn’t understand. 

“Thank you,” Tivon sai bitterly and heartrending, “but I don’t want you here.”

She visibly startled, the words equalling the action of a slap right across the face, but she caught her countenance quickly, “If...you want that. Alright.”

She rose and he saw her beckon Braham to follow, the norn’s eyes boring into Tivon’s back. 

_ Braham’s hand around Derwen’s throat.  _

Tivon closed his eyes, tried to dissolve the image, but it would not fade. It left a bitter taste in the back of his throat and he found that he could not shake the feeling that any comfort his friends would give him was filled with lies, fed with guile, strewn with dishonesty. 

Another figure appeared before him and he looked up when Caithe knelt down on the other side, shifting gracefully and carefully, her eyes gauging Derwen’s body. She was quiet for a few moments and Tivon tried to ignore her, tried to submerge the urge to yell at her to  _ go away _ ..

Could they not just...leave him be? Mourn? 

“We’ll prepare him and take him back to the Grove,” Caithe offered, voice soft and quiet.

“Why?” Tivon asked, not recognizing his voice.

He could see her from the periphery of his vision glance over her shoulder toward Sgileas before she leaned closer, knowing full well how Sgileas would react if he heard her. Her voice was low, a hush, barely even noticeable, “Do not misunderstand me. Trahearne was my brother, the oldest of our kin. He’s always been there, and I respect him greatly. But Derwen did the right thing.”

Tivon did look up at that and her eyes seemed to pierce his own.

“The world will not see it that way. Some are made into heroes, and others disgraced as the villains. It is up to us to never forget.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I think you will understand that the world is not black and white. Even if I am wrong, I owe you a life-debt.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I know,” her voice was softer now. “But I owe it still.”

Tivon was quiet for a moment. “How...won’t they reject him?”

“I know a place.” her voice dropped into a melancholy timbre and Tivon realized that she too had lost her lover to the jungle Dragon. “And Mother would never object. She loves him dearly. As she does all of us.”

“You knew him?”

“All of us firstborn did. Some more than others.”

“Will you…” he hesitated for a moment, gulping, “Will you tell me?”

“I will tell you what I know,” she agreed, “after the preparations are done.”

“Thank you.” It was...something. Perhaps he could learn more about Derwen, learn to understand him better…

It felt like a part of him had been ripped out. Shred from his skin and taken away, swept away by a gust of wind into the vast nothingness. Knowing even a little might help him fill that hole, might help him  _ feel  _ whole again.

Although he doubted he could actually be whole again. 

“Come on,” she encouraged, “I’ll help you.”

Tivon allowed it.

In a place full of people he would trust with almost everything, he only trusted Caithe with this. Sgileas did not even once look up, too lost in his own sorrow, and Tivon tore his eyes away, seeing himself reflected too perfectly.

How would they recover from this blow? How was he to forgive him? 

_ Pale Mother,  _ Tivon chanted in his head, tears filling his eyes as he and Caithe lifted Derwen’s body, his hand clutching the Bifrost and the petal tightly,  _ I don’t think I can. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *receives you in a warm and loving embrace* There, there. You've made it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Two great characters fall, and we'll miss them both dearly. I know many of you were squirming in their seats not quite knowing what Trahearne's fate would be, and I have decided to go with the canon despite it ripping my heart open once again. It should be obvious, but Derwen's death is (sadly) final, and he too will not be coming back.  
> To say Derwen's death was a necessity will seem cruel at first, but hear me out:  
> His backstory will reveal a great many questions you have probably asked yourself, and if there are still things you'd like to know or think are unresolved about Derwen, leave your questions in the comments, and I will attempt to answer them in his backstory.  
> Also indulge me for a bit longer while I explain why Derwen was the best choice to kill Trahearne, so that you partly understand the tone of his past. Sgileas obviously would never have even picked up Caladbolg, much less raised it to kill Trahearne. Tivon would not have done it either, knowing the pain it would inflict on Sgileas, and knowing the consequences of hatred that would brew between them. For that same reason, none of the others would ever raise their blade against Trahearne (Except perhaps Caithe, but I imagine she is too self-loving to sacrifice her life for such a thing).  
> Derwen knew he would die to Sgileas' hand when he killed Trahearne. And he did it anyway.  
> With that said, there comes an Epilogue after this, and then we'll delve deeper into Derwen's life as I have been promising for quite some time now. 
> 
> On another side-note, it might appear that the spell Derwen used is a somewhat deus ex machina move, but I've wondered about that for quite some time, and I've come to the conclusion that it isn't. As a matter of fact, I've never delved into the kind of power Derwen possesses, and how much of it comes from the Bifrost, but I'd like you to remember the Mesmer Lady Valette Wi casting a similar immobilization spell on our heroes as we drew closer to Caudacus in Confessor's Stronghold without being called especially powerful, so I will leave it at that.


	65. Shattered (HoT Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One journey ends, another begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!   
> Not much to say...we've come so far already; from a story that was meant to explore S1 up till HoT and even beyond. Save to say it is far from over, so stay tuned!

The return to the Grove happened in a blur. What had survived of the Pact had received them with victorious cheers until news of Trahearne’s death reached them, and a lulled, sunken and plaintive atmosphere pervaded the air wherever they went. 

None minded Tivon and Caithe as they split from the others, seeking a more quiet, secluded place in the Grove. Trahearne’s death was a much greater concern, attracting almost all sylvari all at once, and through the sympathetic bond Tivon felt the sadness of their mother permeating even through his mind, increasing his own sorrow tenfold. 

A soft breeze whisked through his leaves, the branches shivering at the cold, and they set Derwen’s body down near a glade so far away from everyone else Tivon could not hear a thing. 

“I will leave you,” Caithe murmured and Tivon was grateful, watching her go only from the corner of his eyes. He had never returned a sylvari to the Grove before, had never buried anyone, yet he was faintly certain just how to proceed.

The Bifrost came to life, ready to assist him, and with a gentle lift of his arm the vines began to grow, roots began to sprout, entangling and covering Derwen’s body completely until his form disappeared beneath the knots and twists.

Tivon formed the roots, poured his magic and inherent abilities to promote the plant’s growth until a small sapling stood, encumbering Derwen’s body completely. 

The bark was made up of strings of black and white, ivory branches that looked so bright they gave the illusion they glowed, and others so dark they seemed to drink in the light. 

The sapling was small, but Tivon was certain it would grow into a tree that was strong like an oak, and he knelt down with that same hallowed feeling, the staff laid out in front of him into the grass.

His eyes stared at the roots where they entwined and formed circles and interwoven patterns of spirals and twirls, grown from and around Derwen’s body, yet the body could not be seen. A bystander would never know what kind of seed the sapling had grown from, and perhaps that was for the best. 

Right now it felt as if it was all Tivon had left.

They’d won. They’d won another fight against the Elder Dragons, had bested Mordremoth in its own territory, yet the victory was devoid of any feeling of cheer nor blitheness. The losses had been many. Too many. Too great.

For Sgileas it had cost his lover, the Pact, part of his pride. 

For Tivon...it  _ felt  _ like it had taken everything, but he knew deep within that it was an exaggeration. 

It had to be. It had to be that the lament for Derwen’s death overshadowed any other emotion. 

Tivon felt the burn of the tears at the corner of his eyes again and squeezed them shut, his fingers curled into the leaves on his thighs to regain some semblance of control when they began to shake. 

Only it was not about control - it was about having something to hold on to, and he had nothing but himself. Nobody would cry for Derwen but him - nobody would understand that he’d  _ loved  _ him despite how awful he had been, how much he’d hurt him, how much he had played with him. 

It was even beyond Tivon himself to understand why he felt the way he did, but what would the use of the answer to  _ how  _ and  _ why  _ be? It would most likely only bring more desperation and more pain. 

He bowed forward and sobbed, tears streamed from his eyes even though he squeezed and squeezed and  _ squeezed  _ them shut, and from one instance to the next he was trembling all over again, only barely holding back another scream and wail of frustration and agony. 

It scratched in the back of his throat, wanted to be let out, to break free, but he gulped it down and grit his teeth, fingers gripped tightly into the bark on his thigh, hard enough to scratch. The pain was a stream of white followed by a low thrum pulsing through his skin, bringing his piqued mind from the apex of emotion. 

The echo of the turmoil and clamour raging inside ebbed away, washed out toward a sea of oblivion. A fear whispered that it would stay like this, a high and low that would pervade through the next few months if not years, a pain he could share with nobody because nobody understood.

Tivon was not ignorant enough to believe nobody had experienced the kind of loss he had. It wasn’t  _ that  _ which he thought the others lacked. In fact, he wished he carried  _ that  _ burden all by himself because he knew the pain to be destructive and shattering, leaving so very little of the soul intact that one might be a husk. 

No, he meant the fact that the others would  _ sympathize  _ with his pain, but it would be fake. An illusion of care, because his friends would never understand that Derwen’s  _ loss  _ was what incited this. 

Tivon gave a choked, watery laugh. An illusion indeed. A theme that would most likely never quite leave his life, not completely. 

They would come back to him, return and pressure him into allowing them in. They were his friends, he trusted them with his life. He didn’t trust their sympathy to be real however, not when they hated Derwen and relished his death.

How could he take their consoling words, knowing they were glad Derwen was gone? 

He couldn’t. 

They would come, and he would be unable to keep himself up against the pressure. He would falter to their kind and sweet and soft words, and he would know deep within his heart and soul that they meant well - but that they would never mourn Derwen alongside him.

Tivon glanced at the staff in front of his knees. He felt a connection to the staff, one already deeper and so much more tainted than the one he had had with his other weapon. He could not even remember where it was - most likely discarded at the cave, forgotten amidst his sorrow and despair. 

_ They will come. _

“And what am I to do?” Tivon asked into the soft breeze. 

The staff was quiet, but in that quiet Tivon knew lay the answer he was afraid to admit. Gingerly he curled his fingers around the staff, stemmed it into the earth and rose to his feet. His armour rustled softly as he moved and he gazed down onto the Sapling, poignant and languished. Seconds dragged by and Tivon found his body, mind...his very soul lingering, refusing to move.

Where would he go? 

There were steps behind him. Slow. Careful. Yet so very certain, not at all hesitant. Tivon turned to look over his shoulder and recognized Malomedies. A cold wind blowing through the sapling’s branches, rustling, and creaking. 

“Malomedies,” Tivon greeted and lowered his head, knew that the stains of his tears could be seen even as the heavy clouds hung over the Grove. There was another soft brush of wind and a trickle of water on Tivon’s skin.

“Valiant.” Malomedies stood beside him, staring down at the Sapling that barely rose higher than their knees. “Is this him, then?”

Tivon nodded, throat tight. 

The patter of rain grew louder.

“Why did you bring him here?”

Tivon tried to discern if there was hatred, vengeance, or any other emotion speaking through Malomedies word’s, but he could not be certain. Would the Firstborn judge him? Judge him for bringing Trahearne’s killer, their brother, so close to their roots? 

“He vanquished Mordremoth.” Tivon gulped and tightened his hands into fists. “He’s a hero as much as Trahearne.” The drops of rain turned into a downpour. The swish of the brush of wind left a chill in the air, the ground wet and matted with mud, slowly growing more unsteady beneath him.

Was the sky crying with him? 

“Many won’t see it that way.”

“I don’t care,” Tivon’s voice was sharp, “I’ve never cared. I’ve stood by what I said, I’ve attempted to be true to my word. I’ve loved him and they’ve rejected him. That simply was how it was meant to be.”

“You have.” Malomedies agreed quietly. The Firstborn glanced at him, gesturing toward the Sapling. “May I?”

Tivon gave only a nod in answer, eyebrows drawn in confusion. The rain dripped over his guise, trickling down his chest and back, but he only watched still and quiet as Malomedies moved forward and knelt by the Saplings roots, his dark hand brushing over them tenderly and carefully.

It was...thoughtful, cherishing. Almost…

“He was a night blossom,” Malomedies murmured, something deep etched into his voice that nearly tore Tivon open, “like us.”

“You knew him,” It wasn’t a question. “You knew Derwen.”

“I didn’t know that was his name,” Malomedies admitted, “but the feeling around him never changed.”

“Feeling?” Tivon stepped closer. “What feeling?”

Malomedies looked up, rain splattering on his face, collecting in large drops on his chin, but despite the downpour that swished around them, neither was affected. “The feeling of urgency. Of purpose. Drive.” The firstborn sighed and stood, the grass beneath his feet making a wet sound at the movement. “He awoke on a cold night with his sister. He was driven by a vision - his Dream - and rushed to the Grove. I only heard stories of him after.”

“Sister?” Tivon felt a chill bite under his armour. “What sister?”

“Gwynethia.” Malomedies gave him a quizzing look. “I take it you do not know her.”

“I don’t.” Tivon admitted quietly. “His Dream…” The Bifrost pulsed softly at that, but Tivon ignored it, “what was it about?”

“I do not know.” Malomedies gave a weary smile, “he never confided in me. His sister would know; she followed him everywhere.” The smile faded. “Everywhere.”

“Where can I find her?”

Malomedies took a deep breath. There was a low rumbling thunder growing through the sky, making the Grove shudder. “She is Nightmare Court, as he was.”

_ Everywhere.  _ Tivon shivered. “I have to find her.”

Malomedies regarded him. For a moment Tivon wondered if the Firstborn would attempt to stop him, call him a fool, but Malomedies did neither. “She was last reported to be near Twilight Arbour. If you decide to search for her I am sure you know what kind of dangers you are headed into. The Nightmare Court allow none in but their own, and Gwynethia is dangerous. You would do well to look for your answers elsewhere.”

Tivon’s grip on the Bifrost tightened. “I have to.” He took a deep, stuttering breath and lowered his eyes. “I...I need to know.”

“I hope you find the closure you seek.” Malomedies looked melancholic. “May the Pale Tree watch over you on your journey, Tivon.”

Tivon felt tears in his eyes. “Thank you,” he breathed out and gulped, “Thank you, Malomedies.” Without asking for permission he stepped forward and embraced the Firstborn, and Malomedies hugged back. 

There was no question asked, no resistance to meet him. When Tivon let go and pulled away Malomedies let him. Didn’t hold him back. The Firstborn merely watched as Tivon turned with his head hung low, the Bifrost glittering dimly in the dark of the storm that was coming over them. Tivon’s footsteps through the mud left wet noises in their wake, disappearing in the distance and fading against the rush of wind and pouring rain.

Beneath a large, low-hung leaf of a lantern stood Caithe, the blue light behind her casting an eerie glow on the white of her hair, her eyes watched  as Tivon vanished in the distance. When Malomedies approached her she glanced at him only briefly.

Malomedies voice carried softly, “He is going after her. Gwynethia.”

“I know,” Caithe murmured and sighed, “I’ll look after him.”

“What makes you think he needs you?” There was nothing sharp in Malomedies voice. Just an honest, blunt question. Caithe did not take offense. 

“He doesn’t,” she agreed, “but I have a debt to repay.”

Her form disappeared into the shadows and even though Malomedies listened, he heard no footsteps, not even the rustle of leaves. Just the creaking of small, young branches behind him. When he turned his head he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The air carried the scent of rain and lavender.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I gave what Aewin said some thought and decided to bring another character into the fold after all. I hope you are as excited to meet her as I am to write her.   
> If things go as planend (But when do they ever?) the next few chapters will be alternating between Tivon and Sgileas. So next up: Sgileas.   
> And you all know what that means. 
> 
> See you next time!


	66. Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Here comes Sgileas' chapter, filled with plenty of feels. My goal was to glimpse into his head and spread some more feels (Yes, I know, you will most likely not thank me), but I also wanted to include how Sgileas will get himself out of that again.  
> As with most of the things in life he finds he's not quite alone, even if he thought he was, and would have preferred it that way. Let's all agree that friends and family help us through harsh times. (Yes, even for you Sgileas; you can't do it alone)  
> Without further babbling: Off you go!

Trahearne. 

Trahearne.

_ Trahearne.  _

The wind was cold and biting, rain pattering harshly against his body. The leaves covering his body were matted and heavy, clinging tightly to his chill-ridden skin. The pattern carved into his bark ran rivers of diminished, pale purple, faint and faded like his spirit. 

Sgileas was frozen stock-still, an ominous statue of shadow and puissant glory personified, and yet his features were etched with an incalculable sorrow and untold anguish that he bore in the bow of his back, the hunch of his shoulders and the forlorn gaze that was staring out toward the wild storm at sea.

Trahearne. 

Trahearne. 

Sgileas lips quivered, droplets of rain collecting at the tip of his chin, heavily beading before dripping to his chest. His lips tasted faintly of salt and nothing, far too numb and exposed to have any feeling remaining. 

The name was rasped out into the blow of the wind, carried away and scattered. 

Then, after hours of his silent, lonely vigil, so very suddenly that those who had quietly watched and waited for an opportunity to offer help and consolation startled and skittered back, Sgileas broke down. His fingers curled into tight, shaking fists, his jaw clenched until the creaking of his teeth could be heard, and his face turned into a mask of that of a demon—of hatred and agony, his defying, pained cry echoing from the cliffside below. His clamour reverberated out toward the sea, drawn out and agonizing to bear witness to, before his knees buckled and slammed down into the mud, dirt spattering out toward the sides.

After a moment of fear-stricken silence, many brave brothers and sisters, old and young, approached to console Sgileas, but the Necromancer glared over his shaking shoulders, tears rolling freely from his eyes, his complexion that one of menace and threat.

It was then that nobody dared approach further, and the footsteps grew faint in the distance as the onlookers disappeared and dispersed. Some stared at him over their shoulders in pity and sympathy, but they were all aware that the time was not right.

The waters crashed against the cliff with a bellowing splash, and Sgileas sank in on himself, empty eyes gazing out toward the sea. 

It replayed in his head. Over and over and over and--

For how long was this torture going to tear him into pieces? Why was there still anything left of him that could break? The second he had lost Trahearne was forever etched into his memory as the greatest, most horrific failure of his life. He’d failed Trahearne. Failed to protect him, to--

A wave of nausea hit him, stomach clenching in a visceral, self-reproaching reaction, and he choked on his sob, shivering in the wind. 

Trahearne. 

He closed his eyes, but there was no escaping the memory. There was no escaping the fragment of that piece of time that impaled his soul, forcing him to repeat it over and over and over again. 

_ Derwen’s body was falling. Sgileas whirled around. The tendrils and vines, Mordremoth’s very corruption, was wilting from the plane around him, and the seed that had encased Trahearne’s body sank and withered, causing the firstborn to fall into Sgileas trembling and waiting arms.  _

_ Trahearne had no strength to hold himself up and Sgileas was brought to his knees by the weight and his own, his whole body shaking. He embraced Trahearne’s body, pulled him in close. One quivering hand cupped Trahearne’s cheek and cradled him against Sgileas’ chest, the other slung around Trahearne’s lithe, weak frame, seaming their bodies close. _

_ “Trahearne,” Sgileas choked out in a strangled voice. Tears rose into his eyes when they darted unbid to the lethal wound, the sap glistened in between the blurs.  His fingers that clutched Trahearne’s flank were coated in Trahearne’s blood, warm and drenched. “Trahearne, no, I’m here now, I’m-” _

_ “Sgileas,” Trahearne’s protest was weak, so weak it came out in a rasp, almost lost to the wind. Sgileas curled around him protectively as if he could somehow defy reality by bringing Trahearne close to him. “I’m…” _

_ “I’ve got you,” Sgileas whispered, tears welling up in his eyes, building and cascading over his cheeks, “I’ve got you, please, don’t…”  _

_ Don’t leave me. _

_ Trahearne smiled sadly. So infinitely sad that the sight itself left no question that this was real, it was happening, it was- _

_ Trahearne lifted his hand, tried to reach up with the last remaining strength he had and Sgileas took it, held it, and both their hands trembled. “I love you.” _

_ The words were whispered, just for him, just for his ears, just for his soul, and Sgileas felt them like a sledgehammer impacting with fragile glass. He gripped tighter, voice wet and tight, “I love you too,” he chanted, “I love you too.” _

_ Trahearne’s eyes remained locked with his for a powerful second, that one, endlessly long second that felt dragged out, and not long enough. Trahearne dragged in a stuttering breath, neither of them knowing it would be the last. Warm, tepid breath ghosted over Sgileas’ cheek and neck when Trahearne exhaled, and then it was a long, endless descent. _

_ Trahearne’s eyes turned glassy, looking beyond that which Sgileas was still trapped in, and then the dim light of his pattern faded like extinguished coal after burning through a long, cold night.  _

_ “Please,” Sgileas tried again, his hand cupped Trahearne’s cheek once more, but even as he turned the firstborn’s head, there was no reaction. The eyes were looking, but they were looking through. “Please. Please. Please.” _

_ Trahearne’s life essence lifted from the body. It was magical, powerful, a wisp of green with a sloshed tail that trailed after it as it arose, and Sgileas followed it with his eyes, lips quivering. It was no salvation for any soul once it was taken in as life force. It would merely feed his Shroud, his powers, and he would never defile Trahearne’s essence with such a motive.  _

_ Nonetheless he could not help it and lifted his hand, his fingertips curling ever so gently around it. Not grasping, not trapping...feeling it. Drinking it of its warmth. Marvel at what it was, despite knowing what it meant. _

_ The essence hovered for a moment longer as if gandering and waiting before it departed with a nimble movement through his fingers, drifting off into the sky. Sgileas followed it with his eyes. It was quiet, so very unlike any of the others, and seeing its green glimmer disappear into the sky felt more like a part had been torn from him and disappeared with it, more like a departure than anything else before this had.  _

_ If there had been any remaining doubt to deny this reality was truth, now it was a certainty. Trahearne’s soul had moved on. There was nothing but a husk left. Nothing but the body in his arms and the lingering, perturbed silence. _

_ Tivon’s wail almost fell on his deaf ears; Sgileas’ own sorrow eating and corroding him inside out, a trial of acid burning holes into him. There was naught but blame and wrath and anger remaining in his heart, the sheer frustration and unjustified death of his beloved. He curled around Trahearne’s body, squeezing it tightly against him. _

_ Trahearne was gone.  _

_ Gone.  _

 

The sun blinked over the horizon, casting away the remaining veil of the long, dark night. 

“Commander.” Sgileas didn’t turn. Made no motion of even having heard. That title rang hollow and empty, knowing of his most recent and most impactful failure. A figure approached and knelt down beside him, and Sgileas recognized the Secondborn Laranthir only barely from the corner of his eyes, staring blankly out toward the sea. “I’m...sorry for your loss.”

No reaction. Just the sound of distant waves, gently ebbing and flowing against the surf beneath. 

“If there is anything I can do to help…” Laranthir trailed off, lowering his eyes respectfully, “...let me know.”

With that Laranthir rose, leaving Sgileas kneeling at the cliff, a silent momument of mourning. 

 

_ An unfelt time later. _

“You know, Commander,” a haughty voice broke through the silence, “this place is sullied by a certain assertive dispirited presence.” Heavy boots rustled through the grass, but even as Canach approached, Sgileas did not stir. The steps halted beside him, not sitting down, but not quite yet leaving either. “It would be best if it did not linger unnecessarily.”

A brush of wind carried the scent of freshly cut grass and after a moment of silence Canach continued, “Although too little is known about the haunting presence to issue an apt and pacifying procedure, not to mention the terrified locals who are clearly inept and out of their element.”

Sgileas did not answer. 

“Perhaps, once time has passed, the spirit will rise and find peace.”

Again, Sgileas remained quiet. 

“Until such a time, Commander.”

Canach’s steps rustled once again through the grass, fading off into the distance and when there was only the sound of silence, Sgileas fingers clenched and he bowed his head. 

Was it naive to believe that this pain was imprinted into his soul, scar-deep and etched like markings, too much a part of him to have any hope of salvation? Of  _ peace _ ? 

Or was it heartless to believe all those who told him he would survive this tragedy, that he would outgrow this pain, that he would manage to forget? 

A second dragged by. 

A minute. 

An hour. 

A day.

When sunrise came again Sgileas had not moved from where he knelt on the ground, eyes gazing out toward the sea, searching for an answer in between. Searching for any shred of purpose to even find the will to hold on. 

It felt so hopeless. So useless. 

Perhaps…

His eyes lowered down toward where the water crashed against the rocks, sloshing upward, salt stinging in his nose. 

There was a flutter of wings and suddenly a blur of white appeared at the edge of his vision, then, hopping into his line of sight came Tivon’s Raven, Vail, two dark eyes mustering him in a way that only an animal could so openly.

Curiously. Almost challenging.

_ What do you want?  _

The Raven tilted his head, jumping closer, adjusting his wings with a jerky movement. It gazed up at him, endless wisdom bleeding into the gaze. Knowledge beyond compare, compassion that transcended any humanoid or sylvari sympathy, and there, blatant and brazen, a challenge. 

_ A Spirit watches from the fog,  _ a voice echoed in his head, grasping his thoughts, his mind,  _ is this not the moment?  _

_ The moment for what?  _ He hissed back, eyes furrowing. 

The Raven almost seemed to smile, but its beak remained closed, sharp. Unchanged.  _ Remember the above and beyond, then you may rise again. _

The Raven’s wing spread and it took to the sky, cawing impatiently before disappearing as a white speck on the horizon. 

Chagrined Sgileas eased back into his vigil, but the words would not leave.

 

The riddle the Raven had left gave Sgileas’ mind a path out from the endless loop of misery it was trapped in. His thoughts churned around the words, formed them again and again in his head, attempting to solve the puzzle for days.

Knowing and believing for sure that in its solution lay his salvation. 

 

_ A Spirit watches from the fog. _

Trahearne. 

The answer came easy enough. 

 

_ Is this not the moment?  _

Moment for what?

Oh, but of course. The here, and now. Another word for ‘present’.  _ Easy enough. _

 

Another day. Another night. 

_ Remember the above and beyond, then you may rise again. _

Above? The Sky? No. 

Beyond? The Mists? The Afterlife? No.

No, no,  _ no. _

_ Wrong.  _

 

His body crumbled beneath his will, famine claiming the few last reserves. But his mind was steel, his will was iron, and he continued on. 

_ Remember the above and beyond, then you may rise again. _

Continued on.

And on.

And on.

_ “And why do you reckon we possess such a calling? Why do you think our race possesses it, whilst other races search for their purpose their entire life?” _

Oh.

_ Oh, of course.  _

His reason and purpose were what kept him going, they were what kept him standing, it would be the bulwark against all that threatened to tear him down. He might be swept out to sea, carried by the harshest winds, set ablaze in a fiery storm, but if he held on as he had, knowing instinctively what his path and answer was, he would rise again. 

Purpose and reason would carry him up, above, beyond. 

_ Once time has passed,  _ a voice echoed, distant. 

Trahearne was watching. Sgileas had dallied long enough, and his strength was not sign of recuperation, of dismissing Trahearne from his mind and having overcome the pain of his lover’s departing. 

It was a sign that he held what they had both fought for and cherished in higher regard than the fragile nature of his heart, his  _ body _ , and when Sgileas rose from the ground the flutter of Vail’s wings was welcome as the Raven landed on his shoulder. 

_ For us both,  _ Sgileas stared out toward where sky and sea met, challenging the sunrise for the first time as it flared on the horizon,  _ and for you, Trahearne.  _

_ I’ll rise.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the case that you do not already know, the title, as well as the last bit of the riddle, was inspired by the "League of Legends: Rise" video. This is not to say that Sgileas has overcome his grief. Days may have been passed by, but days are not enough to heal the kind of wound Trahearne's death has left behind. This is only to show how Sgileas finds strength and courage again to actually continue on, instead of... dare I even think it? The pain is great, yes, but with friends, family, companions, and great patience, Sgileas will get back on the right track.   
> I hope you can all take heart from this, at least a little bit.  
> Until next week!


	67. The Heartsong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So I said that I would see you "Next week" and I didn't upload on Saturday...and I felt bad. So I went on a bit of a writing spree. I'm completing a few chapters at a time now, albeit that they are shorter than what I usually produce. I hope you don't mind.

The patter of rain was an accompanying, constant white noise as Tivon traveled through the undergrowth far off the beaten, walked path. The ground was matted and uneven, slippery to the unwary and hurrying.

Tivon was neither.

His pace was brisk, but not hurried. His armour was drenched and stuck to his body, hugging his lithe frame. Parts of him hoped to lose his undetected pursuer, and yet he knew how futile an effort it was to hope.

He lifted his arm, brushing aside slick vines hanging heavy from a jut overhead, revealing the curves and hills of Caledon Forest beyond. Far in the distance lay the swamp, eerie and overhung with an ominous darkness that would have made Tivon uneasy, were it not for his stout purpose.

There was a gust of wind, raindrops stinging his cheek. "It is time you stopped hiding," Tivon muttered, eyes still staring ahead toward his destination. From the corner of his eye Caithe appeared, melting from the shadows of the grey clouds that hung over all of Caledon Forest.

"I would attempt to stop you, but I know it would be a fool's errand to assume you would listen."

"Then why say anything at all?"

"A fool's optimism, perhaps."

Tivon lowered his gaze and slowly turned to look at her. His bright green eyes had dulled, darkened lines forming beneath his eyes. His weariness was but one of physical exhaustion, his mind driving him forward. "Thank you," Tivon said after a moment of silence, "but I must go."

"To sate your curiosity?" Caithe's legs followed nimbly, the water squelching at their feet. "The Nightmare Court will have no sympathy for your loss. However strong their bond may have been, the Nightmare will have dissolved it with its poison."

"I am not looking for sympathy," Tivon replied blandly, the Bifrost tight in his hand. Its light was only dim, as if it too could not quite find enough strength to kindle the bright spark it used to have. "I am looking for answers."

"To what end?"

"Closure."

Caithe's hand curled around his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes were full of sympathy and she tilted her head, raindrops cascading down the white of her hair. "They only work toward their own ends. Any answers you will receive will leave nothing but questions. If you do not walk into their midst with the intention of becoming one of their own, you will find only your death."

"I do not come unprepared." Tivon's voice was firm, but he was not trying to turn away or pry her hands off of him. "When I woke, I dreamed of a great many things that were then beyond my understanding. I dreamed of my animal companions and an approaching darkness that tore them from my side. Derry shattered before my eyes and Vail's white wings were nowhere to be seen." He paused and lowered his head. "The darkness is uncertainty. It is mystery. It is all that is left to be unresolved, and I can not - I will not wade through a dark world. If I must die for answers, so be it."

"Your sacrifice would mean nothing."

"It is no sacrifice," Tivon's voice was softer now. "I am not planning on dying this day. But I am willing to accept it."

"There is more to this world than the ones we love." Caithe's hand held firm. "Our purpose surpasses us. We have to outgrow our insignificant, small pains for the greater good."

Sgileas would have shredded her apart for those words, but Tivon was not of such a violent nature. "It is what you did with Faolain." It was not a question. Caithe's hand uncurled from his arm and she nodded, water cascading down her cheeks.

"I've made a great many mistakes in my life, Tivon. When Faolain turned to nightmare, I had no choice but to turn my back on her. That, however, was not one of the many mistakes I made. We needed to be a united force to fight Kralkatorrik, and I could not allow my feelings to impede us."

"Mordremoth is dead." Tivon dead-panned.

"And Glint's scion still lives."

Tivon felt a jolt go through him and he averted his eyes, caught in the implications.

"Let Derwen go. Any answers you will find will bring you nothing but heartache and pain. The world is changing, and we sylvari have to show the world that we can be trusted once again. That with Mordremoth's demise, we are still allies to Tyria. Your mission is to protect the scion. You were chosen as the egg-bearer, as its champion." She paused and lowered her head. "I thought it was my Wyld Hunt, but Mordremoth deceived me. All I can do to make up for my mistake now is to ensure that you do what you were meant to do."

"The egg." Tivon's voice was low, quiet, and Caithe nodded.

"The egg," she agreed. "It is our only hope in future battles against the Elder Dragons. You must protect it against those that would harm it. That is your duty, your purpose, your destiny."

Tivon stood still, contemplating Caithe's words. There was a truth ringing from them, one reverberating through the depths of his hear and soul, a chorus that chanted out to him to take up the task and do what he was meant to do. Protect the egg.

That was the grand scheme. That was what the universe had in store for him, planned for him, and yet he still felt the selfish desire nagging in his soul, that oncoming darkness only leaving him feeling more and more uneasy.

He wanted to do as his Wyld Hunt commanded, but no matter how strong the force was, his heart-strings pulled into another direction entirely.

He lifted his gaze toward the Wychmire Swamp in the distance and took a deep, steadying breath.

Is that not what the Soundless embodied? The strength to withstand the Wyld Hunt's call and its heavy weight, the commanding presence that controlled every action, an itch in the back of the head one could not scratch. The Wyld Hunt could be a burden just as much as a blessing, and if Tivon failed, another would take his place.

There was something freeing about cutting himself from that taunting pull that screamed in the back of his head to complete his task, a great relief to do what he sincerely believed would hold a much greater impact on his own, personal life than any grand purpose ever could.

The mending of his heart.

He smiled ruefully at Caithe. "I am the architect of my own destiny." Caithe looked pain-stricken, her jaw slightly open as if to protest, but Tivon had made up his mind. Had made it up so long ago when he had defied everything and everyone. "And should death claim me, I know you'll take my place to protect the egg."

It was as much permission as a testimony, should the Nightmare Court truly kill him. He feared neither the torture that might await him, nor the death Caithe proclaimed was coming. He simply breathed - and the burden of purpose fell from his shoulders.

Steadily he moved again into the darkness of the swamp, and Caithe watched with dismay as Tivon disappeared among the great tangles and roots out of sight.

 

There was the sound of snapping whip somewhere, the great nightmare blossoms already indication that he had waded into their territory. He remembered the terror and fear he'd felt in the beginning, knowing of the cruelty and the abominable acts the Court was capable of, but now, a year having passed, he also knew that the Nightmare Court was only a distortion of what it could be.

Of what Derwen believed it to be.

Three sylvari stepped out from the fern, their darkened skin and armour gleaming red. "Who are you?" A female demanded, whip uncurling onto the ground in a leathery, spiralling heap. At the ready.

Tivon stood relaxed, leaning slightly on the Bifrost. "My name is Tivon," he introduced himself, "I am looking for Gwynethia."

The woman squinted her eyes and came closer with a wary stance, shoulders drawn in. Her eyes glided over the staff and then snapped back at him. "That does not belong to you," she growled and the two men behind her poised their bows, arrows pulled taut into the string.

Undeterred, Tivon repeated, "I am looking for Gwynethia. I have not come to fight."

"Then you will drop your weapon and surrender."

Tivon did not move.

"Did you not hear me, weed?" She seethed, dark eyes menacing and small. "Surrender your weapon, or we will make short work of you."

"I have not come to fight." Tivon's voice was even and bland, and he did not mirror her tense, eager fighting stance. "I am here for answers."

"The Countess has no time to spare for the likes of you," the woman hissed, "You will be taught manners and if you are lucky, you'll live long enough to catch a glimpse. Seize him!"

Tivon sighed and tilted the staff slightly to the side, felt its inherent magic answering to his will eagerly. The ground trembled and vines grew exuberantly, a veil lifting into the air that made the arrows dissolve into naught but air. Baffled the archers grabbed for their quivers and arrows, and with a raise of Tivon's hand the vines shot out, entangling them and lifting them a couple of feet off the ground. The woman was caught in between before she could even lunge, her feet trapped and encased as the vines tightened and strengthened their hold.

The staff came to life, light blinking almost with dazzling intensity, and Tivon found easy purchase with his naked feet, moving over the vines with elegance and grace. When he was just inches away from the woman she glared up at him, body shaking with fury, and she threw her arm back to strike at him. The whip crackled through the air, snapping loudly, and Tivon caught her wrist as it descended with a vice grip of his fingers. He twisted her arm, causing her to cry out and the whip to fall toward the ground, disappearing among the tangles of the vines.

"Where is she?"

"I won't tell you anything you blithering-"

"Now, now." A voice tutted and Tivon lifted his gaze. "Is that how we welcome long expected guests?"

Tivon let the woman's arm go and she looked over her shoulder toward the figure that was marching from the shadows of the thorned entrance. "Countess-" the woman began, but the figure raised a hand and stepped into the light, revealing a pair of blazing, yellow eyes and the uncanny, enigmatic smile Tivon knew all too well.

"Come with me," she said and beckoned Tivon toward her, the smile curling at her lips, "We have much to discuss."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tivon is going after Gwynethia, and Caithe won't be able to stop him.   
> Update next Saturday! promise!


	68. Eir's Memorial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my lovelies!  
> Sgileas' POV in this one; I will be alternating between him and Tivon not only for dramatic effect, but because I know it'll keep you as well as me thrilled for more.  
> Sgileas will be going through most of the LS3 by himself, and we'll see him slowly get back into a somewhat normal life. There's a great many changes in the dialogue because of Sgilea' impatient nature, so be sure to look out for that. :3  
> Now go on, enjoy yourselves!

"Commander," there was a note of surprise in Knut's voice. "You made it."

Sgileas felt the claws of Vail on his shoulder tighten slightly, a form of reassurance. The Raven had delivered the letter to him in which he was asked to come by Eir's homestead and her memorial. To say he'd known her was an exaggeration, but he'd heard the great many legends surrounding her, and he'd fought with her side by side when they had taken down Zhaitan.

Sgileas remained quiet. He was not in the mood for words. In fact he had spoken very little ever since...

Knut did not wait for a reply, nor did he take offense in the ensuing silence. "Let's head up," the great Norn leader offered with a gesture of his arm, "My people will be glad you are here. Some may have questions about what happened."

Again, he didn't answer. He found no words of sympathy to say, not when all that kept him together was the brittle focus on his purpose and the mending of the world. It was all that kept him together at the moment, all that kept him from falling into the calling of the spiraling self-reproach and grief.

"It is a shame Braham is not here." Sgileas looked up at that, and Knut continued as they made their way toward the homestead, boots scrunching in the snow. "He arranged this and then took to the mountains. The fire inside that boy...I feel almost sorry for any Jormag's minions he comes across."

So the Norn boy was not here. Odd.

"Make yourself at home," Knut offered and gestured inside. There was a long tapestry that was embroidered with golden rims, chairs lined up along the side, leading up toward a crackling fireplace. In front of it, surrounded by a group of Norn and a norn child, stood Rytlock Brimstone, the fire giving the illusion that his pelt was aflame. "Your tribune friend certainly has." Knut chuckled. "I'll leave you to it, Commander. Speak with whomever you wish to celebrate, or pay your respects privately." Sgileas can't help but feel the part is added especially for him and his long, dragging silence. "The spirit of Eir can be found in either."

With that Knut bows his head and marches off to talk to another Norn woman and Sgileas stepped into the homestead, the warmth of the fire pervading the air and warming his chilled skin. The snow gathered atop his head melts only slowly as he approaches and waits for the story Rytlock is telling to end.

"She had him dead to rights, and we all knew it. And what was he going to do? Beg? Plead?" Rytlock shook his head. "Wasn't his style, and Eir wouldn't buy it anyway, so he just jumped off the ledge!" The crowd gasped and he continued. "Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of escape--even to his death; she shot him before he hit the ground!" Laughter rattled the Charr's chest and the crowd seemed satisfied, grinning and applauding.

"Raven's acorns!" One delighted listener called.

"Damn," Rytlock finally brought out and shook his massive head once again, folding his arms. "That norn knew how to exact revenge!"

"That's just like her," One onlooker agreed with a nod,

"So true!" Another said and raised his ale into the air.

"I'm not sure why no one's ever made a tapestry of that moment...Hey!" He looked over toward where Sgileas stood, "Good to see you Commander."

There was an odd, awkward silence in which the Norn turned toward him; some awed, other's with a visible reluctance, not knowing how to react or what to say.

"Rytlock." Sgileas acknowledged and ignored all the others, stepping closer to the Tribune. The others dispersed, noticing quickly that their presence was naught but a nuisance, and Rytlock waited a moment, tail flicking behind him before he lowered his voice.

"I'm sorry about Trahearne." The Tribune said, and Sgileas felt as if an iron fest clenched his heart.

"I do not wish to speak of it." Sgileas' voice was sharp and curt, slightly scratchy from under-use, and Rytlock nodded in understanding. He did not want anyone's pity or sympathy. He wanted as little a reminder of it as he could make it. He remembered it all too vividly by himself.

"Hey, you're that Rytlock Trombone, the revenant, right?" A kid interrupted and Rytlock glanced toward the side, the eyes behind the blindfold searching for the offending kid.

"Close enough," Rytlock grumbled, "Now why don't you do uncle Trombone a favour and buzz off."

"But I wanna hear about the Blood Legion!" The kid whined, and Sgileas almost admired it for standing quite so unaffected under their glaring stares. (Although Rytlock's eyes were still hidden behind the Blindfold, so the kid might be oblivious).

"Don't you think quietly weeping in the corner by yourself would be more fun than this?"

"Nah, this is fine." The kid grinned. And Rytlock growled and turned away, making his way toward the entrance. Sgileas followed, walking abreast.

"Logan and Zojja are still both laid up," Rytlock grumbled. "With those two out of the field, and Snaff and Eir gone, and..." Sgileas eyes snapped up, daring the Tribune to utter the treacherous name Sgileas had come to  _ loathe _ , but Rytlock knew better and skipped it, "Well, there really is no Destiny's Edge anymore."

Sgileas waited for Rytlock to finish, to know where he was going with this, although he had an inclination.

"Maybe it's time to start again."

"A new guild." Sgileas deadpanned. The world simply continued turning, even though it felt like it had stilled. To him, at least. Everyone around him seemed so...unaffected. They mourned, all in their own ways, over friends and family. Was it that his loss was just more significant? He'd lost the other part of his soul. He was not mollycoddled as some of the others to spout nonsense about soulmates and dreambonds and other ethereal and transcending connections easily. That however made him that much more certain that what he and Trahearne had had was  _ exactly  _ that.

A bond, deeper and more sublime than those of the more frivolous and short-lived nature the humans shared.

Vail's claws brought a white-sharp pain, bringing him from the lurking depth. He somewhat jolted from his thoughts and noticed Rytlock was gandering him.

"They would not want us to get caught up in their deaths." Rytlock said, and even though he did not mention names, Sgileas knew he meant Trahearne and Eir. "Regret gets you nowhere." There was a momentary pause in which Rytlock turned fully toward him. "And Tyria would probably sleep more soundly with the dragon slayer at the helm of the new guild."

That is why he'd chosen to be here, was it not? He'd chosen to live to protect Tyria as was his destiny and purpose, as Trahearne would have wanted. None of this was for him. None of it. He did it for those in need, and he was painfully reminded that at some point in time, this was exactly what Forgal must have felt like after losing his wife, his children, all of his family to the dragons.

Forgal had vowed to protect all of Tyria to prevent such a thing from happening again.

Sgileas could only hope to achieve the same.

"What would we call it?" He finally asked and he saw Rytlock's lips curl into a smile, but before he could answer the child from before interjected,

"Fate's razor!"

"I will  _ not  _ be a part of the guild called 'Fate's Razor'." Rytlock growled and Sgileas thought for a moment, turning his head toward Vail. The Raven met his eyes, the dark orbs still as the ocean by night.

"What about Dragon's Watch?" Sgileas asked and Rytlock looked intrigued.

"Dragon's Watch...I like that."

"Can I be in it?" The kid asked.

"No!" Rytlock protested vehemently.

"But I've got Uncle Beemish's magical sword!" The kid protested.

"Not yet, kid." Sgileas said, voice less heated and more soft, and the kid pouted and stalked off. A new guild to watch the dragons, to ensure that the havoc they wrought would not blow the foundations of their life on Tyria to smithereens. Zhaitan, Mordremoth... Their deaths proved it could be done, and Sgileas would see his task through. Would fight until death called for him, and he would accept its embrace gladly.

"Commander!" Knut's voice broke through his thoughts and he lifted his head, "Come see this!"

"What's going on?" Rytlock asked as they stepped outside into the soft snow, the cold biting their skins. Sgileas squinted his eyes staring down the pathway toward the gate, and walking through it came Rox with a tattered wolf in tow.

Garm, Eir's animal companion.

Rox looked startled and dumbfounded as a great many watched her enter and cheers began to erupt. Uncertainly she stepped forward and frowned at Sgileas and Rytlock. "Commander," she blinked at him in surprise, "What are you...What have I walked into?"

"A memorial for Eir," Rytlock answered. "You brought back Garm. Nice work, soldier."

Rox gave a weary smile. "We're both tired and hungry. Wasn't expecting all this. Garm's hurt, too. We should get him healing as soon as possible."

"I'll send for a healer," Knut quickly volunteered, "Meanwhile there is plenty of food to go around." He disappeared before anyone could protest and Vail nudged the side of his head, urging him to take action. Sgileas sighed and stalked off, following the smell of the meat that was being roasted over a fire. He grabbed a piece of meat on a stick and returned, kneeling down in front of Garm who had curled down in the snow, his pelt dirty and rugged.

"Here," Sgileas murmured and the wolf looked up, eyes glinting happily. It lapped the meat with its massive jaw hungrily, snapping away large chunks with ease, and Vail made an approving, cawing noise on his shoulder. There was something strange about animal companions, Sgileas mused, Vail only one of the great many indicators that their bonds with their respective Rangers was strong and profound, which begged the question Sgileas had not yet figured out.

_ Why is Vail with me? _

He should be with Tivon. Wherever  _ he _ was.

He did not want to think of the Druid, did not want to remember what had happened. Did not want to remember Tivon's pained wail, the reality coming crashing down on the both of them with shattering intensity. He did not want to feel sorry for Tivon. No, fact was, he  _ couldn't. _ Derwen had deserved his death, and so,  _ so  _ much more. But there had been no time to exact  _ more _ , and it had not been the place.

He had to make due with the little revenge he'd gotten, and thinking of Tivon left only a bitter tang that was part guilt and regret - feelings he was not used to and did not want to feel. The Druid would either cope or he would not - that was to be a mystery, most likely forever. He doubted Tivon ever wanted to see him again and perhaps that was for the best.

A norn woman came closer, demanding Garm's entire attention and Sgileas rose, offering her his space. She tended to the wolf's pelt and wounds, but Sgileas' wandering mind was interrupted when Knut approached him, a piece of parchment in his large hand.

"Commander, this arrived for you."

Sgileas took the letter, scanned its contents. It was written in a hasty fashion, the signature revealing the letter had been sent by Taimi. It was clear that she was unsure exactly how to address him, being a friend of Tivon's more than his, and he looked up at Rytlock.

"I am going to Rata Novus," Sgileas supplied, "Care to follow?"

"Sure, but I need to take care of something on the way. Or rather, tell someone I won't be taking care of something." When Sgileas only raised his eyebrow Rytlock made a dismissive gesture with his arm, "Nevermind. I'll meet you there."

Sgileas made to turn when he glanced over at Rox. The charr female had proven quite useful in the jungle, especially her tracking abilities. She noticed his stare and her ears flicked, most likely a sign of nervousness. "We are founding a new guild." Sgileas said slowly, "Dragon's Watch."

"And...?" She made slowly before it seemed to click. "Oh. You want me to be a part of it." She gave Rytlock a glance. "Of course. What about Braham? Should I pass on an invitation?"

"Once he returns from his folly, I'll extend the invitation myself." Sgileas replied curtly. The norn boy was wasting his time venting off steam in the mountains. If there was any progress to be had, Sgileas would not allow anyone to dally.

She looked like she might say something but changed her mind. "Alright. I'll join you once Garm's recovered."

"See that you do." Sgileas turned away, boots crunching through the snow. He felt the many heavy eyes of the homesteaders burn into his back, but he did not turn back around. He kept on walking and his figure slowly disappeared in the gentle fall of the white snow, his footsteps the only indication that he had been there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! You've made it :D  
> Yup, Sgileas would definitely not hold a speech like that. He may respect Eir, but his encounter with her during the fight with Zhaitan was short and not very impressive, so I doubt he'll care all that much. Whew, he and Braham are going to tear each other apart, huh?  
> Stay tuned for more! Next up: Tivon and Gwynethia talk! :D


	69. An Eye For An Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Nothing much to say except PHEW DEADLINES I ALMOST FORGOT TO UPLOAD but no worries I did it :D Have fun!

Tivon followed her warily, gazing around the camp. The path underneath his feet was gray, a few patches of grass resisting the natural drought the Nightmare Court seemed to bring wherever they went. Darkened, thorny vines curled around the whole camp, being both shield and warning for and from outsiders. There was little lively or even cheery about this place. The Nightmare Courtiers wore sylvari armour and garments that clung to their darkened, ashen skins, glowing, suspicious eyes following him. Among the camp he seemed like a beacon of light with his bright, golden glow and the Bifrost gleaming with the colours of a rainbow.

Yet, none dared to intervene or object to him being here, and he gandered the woman's form in front of him. She had a slim, lithely build with sharpened contours following the curve of her shoulders. The leaves atop her head were full but short, one leaf dangling over the side of her face hiding away the entirety of her expression, and her hips swayed with the same easy grace of a dancer that had been inherent in Derwen's every movement.

"Through here," Gwynethia lifted her purple hand, yellow eyes nearly blazing in the shadow of the gnarled canopy over their heads. Tivon ducked his head beneath a protruding thorn and stepped into a capsule that was cut off slightly from the rest of the camp, its walls made from entwined branches, coppice and thorns. When he came to a halt in the middle he noticed the mushroom that had been grown to substitute a worktable, and two stumps of long-cut trees that served as seating opportunities.

He glanced over his shoulder toward where Gwynethia made a languid yet graceful movement with her hand, and a purple veil covered the entrance, distorting the vision of the camp beyond into small, moving fragments of purple.

She then sauntered closer, her eyes predatory, smirk never wavering. She offered for him to sit, but Tivon stood rooted, both hands curled around the lingering comfort of the Bifrost.

"Don't mind if I do," she shrugged and promptly slumped down, crossing one leg over the other before she placed her elbows atop the mushrooms surface, entwining her fingers and resting her chin atop. "Don't just stare." She chided playfully, "I am sure you came with questions. You seemed full of vigor and enthusiasm at the gate; don't stop now."

It was...so very strange. She had the same teasing tone, the same grace about her, and there was no doubt in Tivon's mind that she too was a Mesmer, a manipulator.

"I came to..." he began but gulped and started over. "Derwen is dead. I'm sorry."

"I'm aware." Her voice was clean like a cut, and Tivon frowned slightly. "I knew the moment he died."

"How?" Tivon could not hold back his curiosity.

Her garments were of sylvari make, the side of her torso cupped by two angular leaves that barely hid her bosom, and in the middle dangled intricate and embroided small vines that glittered alluringly, almost as if tempting his gaze. He would barely have noticed however, were it not for her hand that went toward a pendant that hung from her neck and rested atop her clavicle. It was unremarkable, just one long, thin vine, until she tugged at it and the illusion shattered away.

A blossom pendant. Just like the one Derwen had given him. The blossom was wilted, withered, nothing but a stump of dried, brown petals that would never bloom again.

Tivon felt for his token he kept in his belt pouch and brought it forward for her to see. It was the petal he'd clung on to when Derwen had died, when the pendant had begun falling apart. Derwen's sap had encased it, forming an amber prison around it, trapping it in its state just prior to decay.

"He...gave it to me." Tivon blurted out, not sure why he even told her.

"It was not his to give," she held out her hand and Tivon dropped the piece of amber in her hand. "Unless..."

She held it up between her forefinger and thumb, looking through it and right at Tivon. She tilted her head and closed one eye, squinting slightly before she lowered the piece of amber again.

"Unless?" Tivon coaxed, but she only smiled.

“What is your name?”

“Tivon,” he replied. “Just...Tivon.”

"Well, _Tivon._ The pendants are my doing," she explained, "Derwen never had the patience for intricacies and enchantments. His expertise was manipulation.” Her eyes were sharp as fractured glass from a mirror. “I am sure you know."

Tivon lowered his gaze. "I do."

"Then why have you come here?"

"I want to know all that I can about him. To understand why he...did what he did."

She frowned. "You already have all the answers. Why come to me?"

Tivon mimicked her expression, confused. "I...do not. I was hoping you could shed light on his life."

"You have his weapon," Gwynethia retorted. "The Bifrost can show you what you need to know. Except for everything _before_ he stole it, I suppose."

"The Bifrost...?" Tivon glanced at the weapon and felt it pulse warmly. Encouragingly.

"It was by his side, even attuned to him. The weapon accepted him as its wielder." There was a small pause in which she regarded him carefully. "You do not know much, do you?"

"Very little," Tivon admitted quietly.

She leaned back, her yellows eyes glinting. "I will help you," She began carefully, "but you must help me in return." The silence stretched and Tivon felt slightly uneasy under the heaviness of her stare, but he gave a curt nod. He had not come this far to stop now. "Help me find the Mirage's Veil."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo mysterious Gwyn is looking for an item of her own. Whatever for you might wonder? Well well well. I guess you'll just have to stick with me to find out :3


	70. Research in Rata Novus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! There really is not that much to say...I will keep on making Sgileas parts a bit shorter than you most likely remember from your playthrough in LS3, but there's just SO MUCH that seems entirely redundant to me. Plus, I don't want to bore you and myself xD  
> Alrighty! Let's jump into Rata Novus then! See how Sgileas is faring so far.

Sgileas scrunched his nose at the bent pieces of metal at his feet and watched as the asura in charge of the offending golem whined on and on about having to repair it.

Taimi, the small asuran prodigy, came limping toward him. Somewhere in the back of his head he recalled that she was indeed crippled, but couldn't be bothered to remember the details.

"Commander!" She called enthusiastically and Sgileas made a few curt steps toward her, slightly astonished by her small size.

"I got your letter," he held up the parchment in question which, thankfully, contained directions on how to get to Rata Novus. His eyes glazed over the interior, the asuran design evident even to his untrained eye.

"Funny," Taimi grinned and nodded with her chin cheekily toward Rytlock, who was just passing through the gate, "I also sent one to this guy, but he barely made it."

"Your note failed to mention how to navigate this asuran playground!" Rytlock protested with a growl, but Taimi waved it off, leaning slightly more toward Sgileas.

"He got lost trying to find the lab," she giggled, "I had to follow the nonstop stream charr expletives to track him down."

"City of the future, my tail!" Rytlock cursed.

Taimi chuckled before she craned her neck to look up at him. "I was happy when I saw your mission was a success, but then I heard about Marshal Trahearne."

Sgileas' jaw clenched. There was a great many things he did not want to speak of, Trahearne being one of them. She noticed his reaction (Smart indeed) and steered from the topic entirely, "aaaand Rytlock said you are starting a new guild. Exciting!"

The more the word got around, the less Sgileas wanted to participate in this guild. Perhaps it had been an ill-advised decision after all.

"I take it you are partitioning to join," Sgileas dead-panned.

She made a theatrical gasp, "I thought you'd never ask!" Her chirpy voice was both annoying and yet, he could not quite be mad at her. He sighed and gave Rytlock a look who simply shrugged his shoulders. "Someone has to be the brains, after all." At that, Sgileas gave her a dead-pan stare, and her chuckle turned somewhat dry. "Juuust kidding," she laughed nervously.

"Tell me of your progress here," Sgileas demanded and Taimi jumped at the opportunity.

"I suspect some of the things I have been working on will come in very handy!" She chirped happily, "This place is great! Well, WAS before every asura and their grandmentor showed up."

"What of the Dragon lab?"

She looked spooked, grinning awkwardly. "What do you mean, Commander? I've never heard of this room you describe!" Sgileas frowned at her, but judging from her tone, he already knew that she was attempting to keep the lab a secret.

But why? And from-

"Hello progeny." An asura councilor greeted, chin lifted haughtily.

"Councilor Phlunt," Taimi greeted, and Sgileas heard the sarcasm drip from her every word, "How lovely to see you. I'm so pleased you didn't end up on a chak's breakfast menu this morning."

Maybe, just maybe, he liked this small asura.

"You can stow the dim insults; they'll never be clever enough to wound me." The Councilor rolled his eyes. "Now, have there been any new developments today?"

"Why, none I can think off!" Taimi replied, perhaps overshooting a bit on the happy part.

"Allow me to warn you about keeping secret from me, progeny. My wrath is as fierce as my intellect."

That statement was an invitation to a retort that was at the tip of Sgileas tongue, but Taimi nailed it. "Oh, that sounds terrifying." She even  _ shivered _ , and Sgileas had to admit there was a lot of nerve and gall on this small crippled child. "I wouldn't dream of hiding anything from you, councilor."

"Hmph." Was all Phlunt had to retort to that and then the esteemed councilor stalked off, hands folded behind his back and chest puffed out.

"But you are," Sgileas glanced down at her and she grinned up at him.

"I know. Let's head up there now. I've configured the gate to make it appear like we are heading to the Command Center, but we're really going you-know-where."

She headed toward the gate control console and typed away, her fingers moving at an alarming and awe-inspiring speed. Rytlock stood with his arms folded in front of his chest, tail whipping from side to side until Taimi announced:

"Alright, through you go!" She made a shooing motion which was utterly ridiculous, considering that she would be the slowest of the group anyhow.

Sgileas stepped through and let his eyes wander over the many screens that illuminated the room in a flickering, artificial blue light. Various consoles lightened up as they stepped through, most likely on a stand-by modus to cover any energy expedience while Taimi was not here.

"Sorry to put you through that," Taimi said behind them, "I need to keep people who may or may not be Phlunt outta here."

"Now that the subterfuge is out of the way, can we get to what you called us here for?" Rytlock grumbled impatiently and Taimi beamed up at him.

"Yes! This-" She pointed at a piece that looked suspiciously like glass, a variety of glowing, blue dots on it that were connected by thin streams. "- is a replica of the ley-line map we found outside Tarir. I've been tracking the movement of magic ever since Mordremoth's death. It's been in total chaotic flux, here, there" she pointed wildly, "everywhere!" Her hand hovered over one large point in particular, "See, that dot is the egg chamber. It lit up like a Lunar New Year firework after the dragon went bye-bye. But as you can see-" She gestured toward a screen just beside it where an image flickered, slightly distorted, before becoming more clear. "The egg's doing great!"

"Is that a feed of the egg-chamber?" Sgileas asked, interest piqued. He stepped closer to inspect it and Taimi looked excited.

"Yeah, the Exalted and Rata Novans exchanged a ton of information. They must have helped them design their security system."

"And then you broke into it?" Sgileas concluded, his purple eyes coming to rest on her.

"No," she said evasively, tiny feet fidgeting, "I utilized it to check on the egg."

"So you broke into it." Rytlock repeated with a raised eyebrow and an impassive tone.

"Hey, we're all friends, right? I don't think they'd mind," Taimi defended herself.

"They would be foolish to," Sgileas agreed, and caught the spark of surprise in Taimi's eyes, "impressive work. What else have you got?"

She seemed to almost burst from positive energy. "Yeah! This other point-" Her eyes darted toward the ley-line map, but she paused for a contemplative moment, "Huh. That's new. The northern Bloodstone is flaring up. I'll have to keep an eye on that."

Sgileas noticed one spot in particular. "The spot where Mordremoth died seems to be cooling down a little."

"Yeah, a lot of energy has been put back in the system. I am trying to model new patterns, but this map isn't build for detailed readings...yet. In the meantime, look at this!" Without waiting she moved past them, limping forward at a slowed pace. She lead them toward large, cylinder like containers that looked a lot like the asuran technology Sgileas was used to seeing, and Taimi went up a ramp and turned toward them, a large smile beaming from her lips.

Sgileas mustered whatever was in the container, but through the liquid he could only get a distorted picture of what looked like a human liver. He hoped it wasn't. "What is it?"

"Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I killed a chak or two in my time alone here. Since the others don't know about this place, I couldn't ask to have defenses installed...So, they pop up every once in a while when the lab's drawing power."

"So they are drawn in by energy?"

"Ley-energy," Taimi confirmed. "This here is a chak organ I found in the larger ones. It's part of their digestive system and since they feed off of ley-energy, it got me curious."

"And?"

"I ran some ley energy through it and it came out different on the other side, but I can't explain it yet. It was barely measurable with the equipment I have. I need to develop some other device to actually observe the phenomenon."

That certainly was much less interesting than the ley-line map and the feed of the egg-chamber, Sgileas mused. "If you feel the conclusion will be imperative keep going, otherwise re-prioritize."

Taimi pouted and placed her hand on the glass, muttering in a theatrical pout, "They don't value your input, Spence. Or...your output I suppose."

"Anything else?"

"Not at the moment," Taimi said and looked slightly disheartened, and Sgileas could not understand why. During this whole catastrophe and the havoc left in the wake of Mordremoth's death, this tiny progeny seemed to have worked tirelessly to observe the consequences of their actions, a feat Sgileas would not even have bothered to think about.

"This research is invaluable," Sgileas said thoughtfully, but it riled her just the same.

She beamed at him. "Right, so, I shouldn't stay away from the main lab for too long - it arouses suspicion." They followed her to the gate and Sgileas glanced over the place one last time before he returned with them to the main lab. The feeling of cool water on his skin and the soft shiver he suppressed faded quickly, but he doubted he'd ever get used to the portal's effects.

"I was told I'd find the Pact commander here," a gruff voice demanded, "Anyone? Were they wrong?"

Sgileas knew that voice. The flicker of the portal got the Charr's attention and her eyes fell on him instantly. "General Soulkeeper," Sgileas greeted blandly and stepped closer.

"Commander," she greeted in return. There was a short moment of hesitance in which she most likely contemplated uttering words of sympathy and condolence, but thought better of it. She, after all, knew him better than some others might, and he was grateful for that. "I am sure you know why I am here."

Sgileas did, despite having tried to avoid thinking of it. Trahearne had been Pact Marshal, and he was the second in command. It would only be natural that he would slot himself into that role and lead, but he'd procrastinated any concrete decision. It felt...wrong, even though he could imagine Trahearne wanting him there, at the apex of the Pact they had both built together.

Pain constricted his chest and he had to turn his head away, lest the memory and loss bleed into his gaze and giving away how very vulnerable he was and how fragile he felt. Just the mention of the name brought a swell of memories and emotions he could barely cork, and he took a deep, steadying breath.

_ What do I do? _

General Soulkeeper was patient, controlled, enough so that even her tail did not twitch. Sgileas stood rooted for a few agonizing moments, trying to come to a final decision that would dictate how his life would play out from here on out.

He wanted to hold on to what he and Trahearne had built; the Pact was a testimony to the unity of Tyria, and that their combined force could challenge even the greatest threats.

Only that was no longer true. The Pact had attacked Mordremoth and failed, pulled from the skies and torn into pieces. Shambles was all there was left. It had been their small group that had been most effective. Cutting a path through the jungle to Mordremoth's heart.

_ Too late,  _ Sgileas thought bitterly,  _ I was too late. I failed. I failed Trahearne. _

_ " _ I can tell you are having doubts, so let me be just up front about the role." General Soulkeeper offered and Sgileas gave a curt nod, "Certain Pact elements feel like Marshal Trahearne's mistake was going out into the field and getting himself killed."

If Sgileas had not known her before-hand, he would have cut her down for those slanderous words. What held him back was the fact that she was a messenger, and the way she phrased the words it was clear she herself did not quite agree, but it was the most honest and blunt way to put it.

"The new Marshal would be planted safely in an office in Lion's Arch. Still leading the troops, but out of harm's way."

There was a smile playing on her lips, her talons twitching. She most likely knew his decision long before he even did, but now it was more clear than ever.

" _ It's time I redefine myself,"  _ Trahearne voice echoed through his mind, " _ A rare and unique challenge, but I have the Pact to keep me busy." _

Trahearne would have taken the mantle of the Pact. Sgileas could easily see Trahearne at his desk, piles of papers illuminated by candle-light and a heavy tome in front of him, his yellow, gleaming eyes looking up bemused.

It... _ ached _ . The vivid image was imprinted in his mind's eye, a sweet, agonizing torture. He missed him. Missed him so terribly he wondered if the pain of that, the ache to be with him, the desire to be with him again would ever dim. Part of him clung to it, and the other half of him knew that he would fall apart if he held on forever.

_ Focus,  _ he reprimanded himself and took another deep breath.

There were four more dragon's that needed to be slain, and he needed to be at the helm of the guild that went after them. Out there, in the open, at the very front. Continue the dream he and Trahearne had shared among so many, many other things.

"As flattered as I am by your offer, I am going to have to respectfully decline, General." Her smile widened, and just by that, Sgileas felt reassured that this was the right thing to do.

"I understand your decision on your early retirement, although I am disappointed," her tone was light, teasing even, and Sgileas felt the corners of his mouth twitch, "I still believe in the Pact's goal."

"I do too," Sgileas replied earnestly, "and I'll always be ready to lend a hand. Just outside the system."

"Out from under a mountain of paperwork, you mean!" Rytlock gave a throaty laugh, and General Almorra's eyes snapped toward the Tribune with a glare.

"Laugh it up, no-eyes, I have something for you too. A letter from the Black Citadel. You must've really brushed some higher ups the wrong way."

She handed him a letter which Rytlock took with a blasé expression, fingers curling around it tightly before he crumbled up the piece of paper and let it fall toward the floor, not once breaking eye-contact with the General. Sgileas could see her fur bristling and she growled lowly at Rytlock, but the Tribune was unimpressed.

"Are you sure you want to throw that away?" Sgileas asked with a raised eyebrow, barely keeping his amused grin at bay.

"Why not?" Rytlock was grinning openly, "It's what I did with the last two."

"What did I hear?" Taimi chirped in, "You are not in the Pact anymore?" Sgileas only glanced down at her, not bothering to answer her rhetorical question. "Wait. What do I call you? Pooh-bah?"

"Commander," Sgileas answered curtly and folded his arms.

"Technically it's a title for life, so you are welcome to it," General Almorra backed him up, but the mischievous glint in Taimi's eyes told him this was not the last he would hear of this.

A siren went off, a warning signal booming through the whole facility. Red lights started flaring and Sgileas' ears perked up, his eyes searching for what was causing the commotion. Asura started moving toward the far end of the room toward the staircase, and Sgileas frowned.

With brisk, quick steps he made his way toward the staircase and glanced down into the large room, let his eyes glide over the stone cavern walls, the great lenses aligned over a small platform that was connected to a ramp, and the various panels and containers scattered around the room.

The asura seemed to flee from a figure in the distance, most of them panicked and rushed, running toward the stairs as if in immediate, life-threatening danger.

"Protect the Councilors!" a voice yelled,

"It's a crazy sylvari!" a scientist screamed and Sgileas descended the stairs, his purple eyes fixed on the figure in the distance. For a moment he was uncertain, but as he stepped closer it became clear who it was.

The sylvari mustered the asura that were running around wildly with disinterest and a hint of annoyance before the dark eyes visible through the slit of a sylvari helmet fell on him.

"Taimi!" Councilor Phlunt was not pleased, once again, "Is this another one of your friends?"

Sgileas paid their little dialogue barely any mind. Canach sighed dramatically and waved with his hand toward the large stone wall behind him. "I came in through the caves because I couldn't find the gate, I wasn't expecting such an..." after his eyes trailed over the asura slowly scrambling and regaining their composure, Canach's dark eyes rested on him, "... _ enthusiastic  _ welcome."

"Did you see that?" Taimi giggled, "Phlunt was so mad, even his fleas jumped ship. Canach, you're my hero."

Canach chuckled at that. "I'm here answering Anise's call." Hmph. So that human woman had kept her clutches tight around Canach, not releasing him after their whole ordeal with Mordremoth. As if Canach had read his mind he continued, "She still holds my billet, but certain messy events have transpired and I am assured that if I clean them up, my billet will be released, and I'll be once again free from any yoke."

"Except your own," Sgileas said, surprised himself that the words slipped free, "Some collars are meant to stay."

"Petitioning, Commander?" Canach teased and Sgileas gave him a dead-pan glare, at which Canach only lightly chuckled, "I've not come to banter, so I will get straight to the point: Minister Caudecus, ahem, 'left' the Queen's protective custody. Anise sent me and a squad of Shining Blade agents to help the good minister find his way back to Divinity's Reach. There's been a flare of White Mantle activity in northern Maguuma, and intel points to him possibly heading there."

"That's the crazy magical hotspot we saw! Up by the Bloodstone!" Taimi squeaked in excitement.

"I thought the Minister claimed not to be in bed with those Mursaat lovers?" Rytlock grumbled and Canach only gave a wicked smile,

"Didn't we all?"

"Commander, if you'd like, you can hitch a ride on my airship. It's on our way; we can drop you off," General Soulkeeper offered, and Sgileas regarded her for a moment.

"It sounds like a heap of trivial human matters that I do not care about," Sgileas said with a contemplative frown.

"Charming as always," Canach rolled his eyes, "I thought you cared for the plea of the people. You have that way about you. It's almost enough to make a person feel unwelcome."

"Oh, good." Sgileas tilted his head. "And here I thought I might have lost my touch."

"You are welcome to lay back and low, Commander. Or is it Marshal now?" The secondborn cast General Almorra a glance. "I am sure they'll pamper you nicely after what happened to your predecessor."

Taimi's hitch of breath was sharp and even Rytlock tensed, but Sgileas only squinted his eyes. There was a long, breathless pause, both of them glaring at one another. Sgileas considered the great many things he could utter in anger, but found that he did not have quite the ferocious reaction he thought he would. After a moment of consideration he said, "I've declined General Soulkeeper's offer," Sgileas told him and relished the spark of surprise that was visible in Canach's eyes for a mere moment, "There is much a smaller, competent group can accomplish, and its integrity is in peril if the liberty of its members are compromised." The words took a moment to sink in, but even when they did, Canach did not retort. His expression was unreadable. "General." The charr looked at him with a quizzing and bewildered stare, surprise written clear over her features when he finally turned to look at her. "I'll take you up on that ride."

She nodded and as he swished by her with brisk movements, she followed him up the stairs. Sgileas could feel the various pairs of eyes burn into his back, but he cared very little for them.

The human politics did not interest him the slightest. What this meant however was that he got to investigate the flaring Bloodstone, and slowly but surely focus his mind on other matters. Get back into the world, instead of just letting time and space pass him by.

 

Perched below the airships deck Sgileas glanced out between the various windows, watching the clouds pass by. Rytlock had been apprehended just before they had boarded the ship, two charr taking him to the black Citadel for some kind of interrogation. Rytlock had assured him that Canach would meet up with him in Bloodstone Fen with his Shining Blade agents, so it was only a matter of waiting, now.

Sgileas' elbow rested atop a wooden box, chin atop his hand, the voices overhead gaining in volume.

"...scared of a little weather?" A woman asked in a sneer and Sgileas lifted his eyes toward the stairs before he slowly rose from his seat and made his way across.

Only he never quite made it.

A violent shake had the airship rattle and give a metallic aching noise, a loud booming sound reverberating through the hull. Sgileas barely caught himself against a metal bar, holding on tightly.

"All hands, full reverse!" A voice above screamed over the cacophony of rumbling and the loud vibrations rattling the ship, but Sgileas could feel the acceleration decreasing only ever so slowly before there was a moment of stillness, and then the ship lurched forward.

Sgileas did all he could to hold on before suddenly, the ship slowed and eased, the metallic rattle dying down into a barely audible creak.

"We survived..." the female murmured and Sgileas made his way up the stairs, taking note of the great many boxes that had been scattered and upturned. "..Somehow."

"What...what  _ was  _ that?" General Soulkeeper asked flabbergasted and cast Sgileas a glance. "Commander, good to see you are in one piece."

Sgileas walked until he stood abreast, eyes cast out toward the great, red gleam that illuminated the entire front window. It took him but a moment when he saw the great many electric discharges that held the same red hue, winds soaring in the distance and sparks flying free.

Magic. Stray, wild,  _ unbound  _ magic.

Sgileas felt his skin bristle, the leaves tingling with the vibrant, thrumming feel of the air the deeper the ship delved in. "Hold here," Sgileas ordered her, "I'll go investigate."

"Investigate? Out  _ there? _ "

_ Where else?  _ "I believe the Bloodstone exploded," Sgileas told her, "but I have never seen an explosion reverse itself, so it bears investigation."

She looked at him as if he had utterly lost his mind and sighed, waving an artificer closer. "At least take one of the gliders. No need to challenge your luck twice."

_ The glory of Tyria, torn apart and screeching, flames blazing as it slowly turns toward the jungle floor, tipping out of the sky. His hand outstretched, Trahearne's face... _

Sgileas lowered his eyes and turned away. "Agreed," was all he said, gripped the gliding apparatus from the humans' fingers and stepped out into the hazard zone of Bloodstone Fen, clipping the glider on before he jumped and disappeared into the blood-red clouds of dust and smoke.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I do Canach's sassy side justice; it always takes me ages to formulate something for him. It's like those times you get in an argument with someone and then some time after in a quiet place you realize you should have said "This" instead of "that".   
> Anyway, getting side-tracked! I'll see you next week with another round of Tivon and Gwyn! :3


	71. To Where The Journey Leads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I sorta made it? Haha. Nothing much to say except "Enjoy!"

“No, I won’t help you,” Tivon protested and shook his head, “There has to be another way.”

Gwynethia lowered her arm, the spell dying at her fingertips into a thousand purple sparks, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Benevolence is a kindness these weeds do not deserve. You are aware of their inherent cruelty. The world would breathe easier without them alive.”

“I have not come here to kill the Nightmare Court, and I will not aid you in this massacre.” Tivon’s voice was firm and he held her gaze, “If you want to commit mass murder, feel free. But I will not help you.”

She regarded him for a moment. “They will not let us leave; if anything, I have only bought us, you, time. Bringing the Bifrost here was a foolish move. They do not ask twice when an item that was stolen from them is returned - no matter the circumstances.”

“I can defend myself,” Tivon protested, “but if I know one thing, it is that Mesmers are more resourceful than this.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lectured by an amateur. I should’ve known better than to pick company such as this.” When he just kept staring at her she gave a resigned sigh, “Alright, fine.” She beckoned him closer and motioned toward the door, “Once I open this I will draw a Shroud of Invisibility over you and myself. Make haste toward the entrance and try not to bump into anyone on the way. Got it?”

He nodded and she held up her long, lithe fingers, counting 3, 2, 1.

The door lowered and Tivon felt the spell fall over him in a veil of cradling warmth. Everything seemed normal, except that the Nightmare Courtiers could not see him, and he could not see Gwynethia anywhere. He headed toward the entrance and easily slid past, his slim frame allowing him to squeeze through. He waited around the bend, fidgeting nervously until the Shroud fell away and Gwynethia revealed herself, a feral grin on her lips. “A simple distortion and ‘tada!’” She laughed and stretched her arms, sighing contently. “It’s been months since my last excursion. Let’s not linger; they’ll notice the farce soon enough.”

Tivon followed her quietly for a moment before the curiosity got the better of him.“What is this...veil you are looking for?”

Her smirk turned cat-like as they made their way up the small hill, climbing over the various large vines and thorns that bordered  and marked the Nightmare Court's territory. “A girl’s got to have her secrets. I would have asked for the Bifrost, but you are so very clingy I might have tried abducting a human babe from its mother’s breast with similar chances of success.” When Tivon gave her a look she waved her hand, “Now don’t look like that. I never did that. The Nightmare Court has a reputation to uphold, and stealing infants is not currently on the list of nefarious things I should be doing.”

“And retrieving this veil is on that list?” Tivon continued and Gwynethia gave him a disbelieving side-glance.

“You are not very smart, are you?”

Tivon felt the flush of warmth and averted his eyes, but he could see that her smile widened. 

“But adorable. I can see why Derwen liked you.” 

_ “Tivon,” Derwen chuckled, “You adorable idiot.” _ Were those words going to continue haunting him for the rest of his life? Was that simply how and who he was? It had to be, if Sgileas and Gwynethia and almost everyone seemed to perceive him as such. 

There was, however, no real pain involved in the memory, despite it being back then on the Breachmaker, despite it having been during the time Tivon’s life has been all but turned about. Instead it was almost a fond memory now, Derwen’s death having lulled any memory of the pain Derwen had inflicted on him at first. There was no point in clinging to any memory of the pain. Tivon had to move on, move forward, find some closure by understanding how Derwen had lived, and what had driven him to do what he had done.

“Tell me about him.”

“Oh. Demanding, aren’t we?” She teased.

“You said you would.”

“In return for the Mirage’s Veil. I see no Veil yet, or do you?”

He halted, the butt of the Bifrost hitting the ground. The weapon flared slightly, mimicking Tivon’s annoyance. “How do I know I can trust you to uphold your word?”

“You can’t. But you knew that long before you came to see me.” She stilled as well, but instead of looking intimidated, she looked nonchalantly toward the staff. “Know this: If you help me find this Veil, you will have done me a much greater service than you will most likely ever realize. I’ve made plans to search for it and retrieve it for longer than you are even alive.” She paused and then relaxed somewhat, giving in to his request. “Derwen and I awoke side by side. A sibling-bond, they called it, and while he was bestowed with a Wyld Hunt, I followed him with no purpose of my own.”

“A Wyld Hunt?” Tivon asked, lapping at the bit of information, and Gwynethia’s eyes hardened when she averted them.

“A hoax.” She spit out. “The ‘oh so magnificent and wonderful’ Dream turned him inside out. No sane person joins the Nightmare Court of their free will; you are either born a psychopath, made as sociopath, or you are hurt and lost way beyond despair with no road left to travel. The Nightmare has been twisted and perverted into naught but cruelty and unnecessary violence by such individuals, seeking to extradite suffering to taint the Dream, but that is not what the Nightmare is, that is not what it stands for.”

Tivon was quiet for a moment before he slowly began walking again, taking his place beside her. “Derwen used to say that the Nightmare is not what the Court has made it out to be,” he remembered.

She nodded. “The Nightmare is about liberation from the indoctrinations of the tablet and from the crushing expectations of the Dream to be and to do good. Freedom from the sympathetic bond that is forced upon you to share it with all brothers and sisters, to be trapped in a society of aloof, sickeningly optimistic sylvari who refuse to see the world for what it is.”

“Suffering?” Tivon offered, and she gave a bitter laugh.

“A Dreamer, saying such a word.” It was as if she was looking down on him, and he felt the need to defend himself and let her in on his disputable and uncertain affiliation.

“I’m not a Dreamer.” Tivon told her, “I turned to the Soundless for a while, and the connection to the other Dreamers frayed.”

She studied him with squinted eyes. “Yet, you are not Soundless either.”

“I assume it’s something in between,” Tivon admitted. 

“A pariah,” she concluded, “very much like my dear, deceased Brother.”

“He said he was,” Tivon nodded in remembrance. 

She waved with her hand, “He would rarely shut up about how great he thought he was. It was insufferable at times; mainly because it was true, infuriating as that is to admit.” She looked forlorn for a moment before she continued in a more solemn tone, “It should be no surprise that those who radiate confidence are the ones with the greatest deep-rooted doubt. He was desperate for answers and turned to the Court, much as you are now.” Her eyes flicked toward him, “and that is why I will help you find your answers.”

There was something about her that made Tivon doubt a great many things; mainly that he understood what the Nightmare Court was, and who Derwen had been. But greatest of all he found that in her words was truth and sincerity, and his instincts assured him that he could and in fact should trust her.

_ “Trust your instincts.” _

“Then I will help you find this Mirage’s Veil,” Tivon said once again, having already agreed to it once just prior to the escape of the Nightmare Court. “Where do we find it?”

Gwynethia’s yellow eyes sparkled with adventurous glee. “Now, Tivon, what is a mirage?”

“An optical illusion?” Tivon answered uncertain. 

“Phenomenon.” She corrected, but nodded, “And when does it occur?”

“When it’s hot?”

She grinned. “Hot and cold, yes. Where does this phenomenon occur, pray tell?”

“The desert?”

Tivon could feel her excitement pervade the air, “That is where we are going,” her steps almost bouncing, “We are going to the Crystal Desert.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tivon and Gwynethia are headed into the Crystal Desert to find the Mirage's Veil, and Sgileas is on his way to discover who or what brought havoc to Bloodstone Fen. If you played the story you most likely already know :D Still hope you guys are excited! See you soon!


	72. Blood and Stone, Reaper of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one, because I do not want to drag it out unnecessarily :3.

“Commander?”

Sgileas startled and managed to bring his legs on a ledge, scrambling forward to find some of his balance.

“Commander can you hear me?”

_What the-_

“Taimi?” Sgileas asked with a frown, turning his head. It was true that the explosion laid quite a great amount of unbound and unstable magic bare, but that would not explain any hallucinations or the hearing of random voices.

“I’m in your bag!” Her voice chirped, slightly distorted and cut off. “I put a two-way communicator in there when you were in Rata Novus.”

_The little…_

“I don’t have time for this,” Sgileas snapped, gazing down toward the large crater that seemed to be the source of it all, “Something just explod-”

“The map just went crazy!” Taimi interjected without a care for what he was about to say, “and it’s where you were going! Are you there yet?”

“Yes,” Sgileas answered sharply, “And I do not-”

“Okay, magic levels that high could be super hazardous! Like Xs for eyes hazardous! But I may have a solution!” Why was she yelling like this? Sgileas felt a headache setting in, “Based on some of Zinn’s old Rata Novus Research, there is a way to counteract some magical threats, but it might take time to get used to, so train, train, train!”

As if that were any news. “We will talk about this thing you bugged me with later,” Sgileas said and Taimi chuckled nervously,

“Oh, lab fire! Gotta go!” There was a short static click before the sound dissipated, leaving Sgileas standing atop a large floating rock, the magical winds raging wildly.

The crater below went deep, jagged edges and scorch marks indicating that heat had been generated enough to leave its mark. Magic was pouring from within in a sizzling breeze, making Sgileas’ skin tingle. It was unlike any magic he’d ever felt. Raw. Unbound.

That however was not all. Sgileas could do with a desolated, destructed place that was uninhabited, but fact was, it wasn’t. On the ground were humans - White Mantle, if he were to hazard a guess - that were even less friendly than some Nightmare Courtiers he had come across. A disrupting magical aura wafted from them, engulfing them in a red sheen, and their eyes reflected the very same, a cruel, deep madness lingering within.

It was clear that they had been close to the blast and somehow affected, corrupted perhaps, and so far Sgileas had seen no signs of remaining sanity.

Worse, Spirits roamed the lands beneath, attacking anyone and anything that crossed their paths. Anguished spirits that were confused beyond repair, remnants of a time in which the White Mantle sacrificed innocents on the bloodstone, trapped their souls - and now (most likely unknowingly) released them with the great explosion they were also most likely responsible for.

If only the angered spirits could differentiate friend from foe, then justice, even hollowed out by the White Mantle’s corruption, could be possible.

Like this, however, there seemed to be only losing ends to this disaster.

So who had caused it, and why? Was it an experiment gone awry? Was the concentration of trapped spirits responsible? Or was it stray ley-energy that had overloaded the bloodstone, causing it to explode?

There was however only one explanation as to why the explosion reversed itself: something must have drawn the energy back in. Absorbed it, perhaps. But who or what could possibly absorb such a great amount of energy? An Elder Dragon for sure.

_So soon?_

It felt like it had been a bare few weeks since Mordremoth had been killed. Since… Sgileas stared out over the expanse of the destruction, his mind wandering to where the splinters were still fledged deep and fresh into his soul, a constant reminder and echo he could not shake.

There was only so much consolation he could take from the fact that Trahearne would want him to continue on. Sgileas was still trying to figure out that it was what he wanted, too.

Focus, Sgileas thought sharply and nearly fell off the ledge when the static communicator somewhere in his backpack buzzed.

“Commander? Commander, come in!”

“What is it?” Sgileas growled.

“OK, I have been going over some data coming from the blast area and one thing stands out. The people who were within the blast radius, who…uhm…survived…” There was a pause, but before Sgileas could tell her to continue, she did, “They need to consume the magic to live, but the magic’s also driving them more and more insane.”

“That’s why they are snatching up bloodshards,” Sgileas agreed.

“Hmmm…then they have to have a way to harvest the magic inside. I wonder how?”

“I’ll track down where they are taking the shards for harvest and see what they’re using. Commander over.”

He should have known better than to think that would be the last of it. “Did you mean, “Commander out”?” Taimi asked and Sgileas glared out into the distance, “It’s okay, communication protocol takes a little getting used to.” He could hear her smile. “Taimi out.”

Chagrined Sgileas lowered his gaze toward a group of crazed White Mantle, carrying shards of bloodstone. A perfect opportunity to get the knowledge they apparently need. He jumped down, glider easily carrying his weight through the air, and he circled for a moment before dropping down. Beside the crater was an area that gave indication as to what this area must have looked like before the blast; there were patches of grass and greens, small trees and stacking stone formations that built a natural network of hollowed caves. The ground was well worn here and Sgileas suspected that it was because of the White Mantle activity. While keeping a good distance he remained in the shadows, his shroud helping him guise himself against the darkened corners, and followed the White Mantle inside.

They were all carrying them toward a figure standing in the very middle, a strange, red corona emitting from it, the very same, eerie red glow flowing from its eyes. A White Mantle, judging from the attire, and a female judging from the high pitch of her distorted voice, demanding “More! I need more!” before the White Mantle scurried away again, eagerly obliging.

Was it that the one who consumed the most shards was a creature of authority and power? Or was it random? Either way, Sgileas extended his arm, a dark staff forming from his Shroud, and then a blade to form the most familiar scythe. He waited for another moment before charging from the shadows, his Shroud billowing at his sides, extending like tendrils.

The woman barely turned around in time, and as Sgileas’ scythe struck down through the corona, he could feel the blast of energy heated against his skin. He stumbled back, forced to listen to her maniacal laughter. As if her red barrier was not failing around her, shriveling away into feathery sparks of flaming red. “The bloodstones are mine!”

“Keep them,” Sgileas answered flatly, spun on the spot and whirled the scythe over his head, bringing it to slash through her torso. For a moment her crazed, wicked grin remained, until the gaping wound tore open, blood gushing over the white of her uniform.

She looked down, and that was the last thing she did. Her knees buckled and she fell flat down on the ground. Sgileas knelt down beside her, searching for an item of interest until he found something that looked like an extractor of some sort.

“Taimi,” Sgileas said as he straightened himself, making his way toward the exit, “I got what we’re looking for.”

There was a loud crash from the other side of the communicator, and Taimi was slightly out of breath, “Already?!” She squeaked, “Record time, Commander. Now all that’s left to do is try it out! You should be able to harvest bloodstone nodes and fragments scattered by the blast.”

“Remind me again why it is that I want to do that?”

“Because I’m asking nicely?” Taimi chuckled, “I can detect any residual substances to determine what kind of tempering the White Mantle handled the Bloodstone with.”

“I suspect you need the items by courier.”

“Larger chunks, yes. Smaller ones the communicator should be able to sufficiently scan. Why, you’re getting the hang of this yet!”

“An unwilling participant,” Sgileas grumbled and Taimi laughed,

“Take care out there, Commander. Try to gather the Bloodstone from the source of the blast, if you can, Taimi out.”

“Taimi,” Sgileas interjected before the communicator could buzz, indicating the line was dormant, “Is there any word of the others?”

“Rytlock is on his way, but I haven’t heard a peep from Canach. Do you think…do you think he was caught in the blast?”

“Evaporation would have been near-painless,” Sgileas dead-panned, scanning the exit of the cave and making his way toward the steep ride of the craters’ edge. When he noticed how quiet Taimi had gotten he bit his cheek and brought out, “He is resourceful. I doubt we are lucky enough to have seen the last of him.”

“Ha-ha, Commander,” her voice was dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Taimi out.”

It was true. If anything, Sgileas knew that Canach had more sheer dumb luck than anyone else he had come across. He would never quite go so far as to account it to Canach’s shrewd intellect, but something told him that the secondborn would not find his end just yet.

Sgileas reached the edge, glancing down. Sharp edges and ledges protruded from the large hole, and deep down below he could see the ground with large scorch marks leading deeper down into what he assumed was a cave.

He took a few steps back, tensed and then ran toward the ledge, jumping into the chasmic hole beneath him. The fall seemed endless, wind brushing through his robes and making them flutter. When the saw the cave opening before him he opened the glider, gliding down toward a strange formation ahead. On the ground was what looked like the fundament of a round, tower-like structure, yet there was only gaping air in between the ruin and the floating platform above his head. The air here was still and vibrant at the same time, staccato burst of energy buzzing to life for fractions of seconds before the looming silence followed. Sgileas crouched down, scraping some of the Bloodstone from a structure that reminded him of the similar coral-shaped structures surrounding ley-energy. With a roll of his shoulders he let the backpack slide down, rummaging through it until he found a strange, small disk-shaped device that could be nothing else but the communicator.

Pinching the scraped bloodstone between his fingers he scattered it over the blinking, flat surface and waited for a moment before craning his neck up toward the floating structure over his head.

If this is where the blast originated from, then how was it still standing? And why had the blast not sought a direct way to the surface, but rather blown toward the side and then in an L-shape upward, venting through the crater that now was? Had there been a fragility caused by White Mantle tampering? Quite possibly. They had to have installed some way to get down here. A mining shaft of some sort, perhaps.

Either way, he needed to get up there. He followed the spiralling coral-like stone that curled around the construction floating in the air, and lifted his arms to pull himself up. It took him much longer than he would have expected, and even more embarrassing was that he was not as strong as he used to be. After the climb he had to catch his breath and bring his trembling arms under control, glaring down at them as if his body were to blame. There was a distant growling come from the pits of his stomach, but he ignored it. _I don’t have time for this._

He turned toward the podest that was surrounded by a round chamber, the ceiling most likely blown off from the blast. The walls were painted with dark smears, and on closer inspection, Sgileas realized it was not deliberate. These were scorch marks, remnants of people who had stood close to blast and had been evaporated. This…these dark smears was all that remained.

Evaporation would have been near-painless, his head echoed and his jaw clenched. Why should I feel guilty for those words? They are true.

 _And if Canach is dead?_ A voice, a treacherous thought in the back of his head asked and he stilled.

 _Pity_ , Sgileas answered defiantly, _but wasting my time thinking about it won’t alter the past, nor his chances._

It was almost as if the company he had been keeping these last few years had made him soft; more and more thoughts of rue and sentimentality nudging in, even those of sympathy and consideration. He took a deep breath. Not the time.

As he took a step toward the podest the ground began to vibrate and shake, but this was no stray magic breaking free. A tremor groaned through the cave and the stone and Sgileas watched the ceiling warily, eyeing a piece of bloodstone that hung loosely before it came crashing down. It impacted with the ground before his feet, Bloodstone shards scattering to the sides and Sgileas stepped back and lifted his arm to shield his eyes when a flash of something passed by before his eyes.

There was a figure, standing near the podest, large and illuminated in white, and the people standing at the walls were lifting their hands against the brightness -

The image vanished and Sgileas stood stock-still for a moment before he lowered his arm. So the White Mantle were indeed responsible, and whatever had been here, it must have absorbed it. Could it have been another White Mantle?  What human could possibly absorb this magic? It must have been someone powerful, someone to equal the power of the Vizier of Orr, if Sgileas were to take a guess. Someone who would survive the initial force and power of the blast.

The last question left was…was that someone or something friend, or foe? If it was associated with the White Mantle, the chances of it being a friend were slim, at best.

“Commander?”

Sgileas jolted, turning at the sound of a real, echoing voice that came through the cave. He could see the gleam of golden armour and a large standard at the woman’s back, carrying a flag. He jumped down, gliding down and landing jsut a few feet away from her. Her cheeks were slightly red, breathing more rapidly, most likely from exertion. She must have run the way down here.

“Who are you?” Sgileas raised his eyebrow, not recognizing her attire. She bowed her head politely, long, brown, human hair falling over her shoulders at the gesture.

“I am part of the Shining Blade. Canach ordered us to find you.”

Sgileas' figurative heart gave a sudden, almost nauseating jump. “He’s alive?”

She nodded vigorously, “I was told to inform you that Caudecus is in the area, and…” she paused for a moment before she brought the words out, practiced and precise, “ that ‘the Commander is kindly asked to participate in the rescue of the missing Minister.’”

Hmpf.

“Where can I find him?”

She beamed, “Right this way, Commander.” He followed her, ignoring and dousing the elation, hiding and drowning it deep, deep down. He was not happy. Canach’s folly nearly got him killed, after all.

He’d give him a piece of his mind, for sure.

 


	73. Making A Wait Worhtwhile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something from Canach's perspective for a change xD I hope you enjoy!

They had barely made it to the outskirts of Bloodstone Fen when the ground rumbled, shook and creaked, the sky tinted into a lustrous blue that expanded before the explosion nearly ripped apart Canach’s eardrums. Long years of solitary living on a dangerous island had given him enough training to know the signs of catastrophe long before some others did, and he only managed a “Back up!” Before rushing winds carried away his voice. 

The Shining Blade were caught unawares and Canach only managed to pull two of them down to the ground with him as the winds passed and rocks flew through the air, scattering widely across the whole area. The light grew brighter and brighter and Canach wasn’t sure if he’d survive this when suddenly, the air stilled, the rocks aloft, the land held its breath. 

And then the blast reversed, stones, trees, rocks cascading in a reverse motion toward where they had come, and Canach felt only the flutter of his sylvari armour before suddenly, everything reverted back to normal. 

Well, ‘normal’.

The sky was tinted in a red hue, sparks and lightning crackling through the air with not even a single cloud in sight. The air was vibrant, humming with a strange buzz that made him want to scratch his skin. 

“What…what just happened?” a Shining Blade agent uttered disbelieving, slowly straightening and standing on his shaky feet. Canach patted off his armour, eyes glazing over the horizon. 

“An explosion, but it reversed itself.”

“Do you think…” a woman gasped, her eyes wide, “Do you think the White Mantle..?”

“Possibly,” Canach murmured, eyes scanning over the sky. He had not caught a glimpse of the airship during their travel, much less now during the blast, but that only meant one thing. 

That the airship was ahead of them, and would have been caught directly in that blast.

“Any casualties?” he asked and turned to look over his shoulder, and a man shook his head, 

“No, sir. Just a bit ruffled is all.”

“What do we do now?” Another asked.

What, indeed. 

He has half a mind on Caudecus, the other on finding the Commander. There’s a chance, be it slim, that the Commander is still alive. He’s faced worse odds than this, after all. 

“We move forward. Pact forces may have been stranded from the blast, so keep your eyes open.”

He climbed up the small expanse built from the great chunks of rock that the explosion had brought loose. What remained of Bloodstone Fen was barely recognizable. The area was filled with the stray magic that streamed around wildly, winds and lightning charging and discharging through the air with reckless abandon. Large rocks remained aloft, held up by forces Canach could not yet explain. 

After barely a few minutes, it showed that they were not the only ones that had been caught unawares. Various groups of White Mantle were engaged in a wild hunt for Bloodstone Shards, eagerly collecting them without even looking left or right. Some of them got so competitive they started tearing each other apart, and Canach lead the Shining Blade through a small crack in between the rocks, eyes craning toward the sky. 

High in the air, right amidst the wondrous and most likely dangerous fluctuations of stray energy and magic, Canach could make out the large Colosseum that Anise had assured him the esteemed Minister was to be found.

If he was still alive. 

There, barely visible between the hues of red and discharges of magic, Canach could see an airship hovering in mid-air. 

Speaking of people being alive…

“Paratrooper,” Canach ordered sharply and the woman immediately rushed to his side, “It seems we are not the only ones in luck today.”

“Sir?”

Canach nodded toward the airship in the sky with his chin, “That is General Soulkeeper’s ship. Let’s give them a greeting and an update.”

She nodded and gave a glance around before she used her glider on one of the many updrafts that had appeared. Canach waited for a moment and watched her disappear before he organized the rest of the troops, positioning around the Colosseum. There was no where for Caudecus to go, not now. 

When the woman landed beside him he was surprised to see she was alone. He had expected… 

“General Soulkeeper extends greetings,” the woman informed him, “and said that the Commander has gone ahead to investigate the blast.”

Canach suppressed a groan. “Then I have another task for you,” he said and she tilted her head, “Gather your squad and scatter. Find the Commander.” 

“Where would we look for him?” She asked with a frown, “He could be anywhere.”

“He’ll be where the trouble is either thickest or started.” Canach shrugged, “Extend to him the following: the Commander is kindly asked to participate in the rescue of the missing Minister.”

She gave him a strange look, but nodded. “Will do, sir.”

As she disappeared Canach made the preparations to ascend to the nearest platform above his head; from there they would begin their move on Caudecus. And to wait for a certain annoyed Commander, Canach thought merrily. 

 


	74. Glimpse into the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you guessed it! Time for some Tivon shenanigans and finally more information about Derwen! I know I promised you guys a chapter on his backstory, but halfway through writing I realized it was not going to happen; instead there will be bits and pieces coming together to form a whole whenever Gwynethia feels like revealing anything. And I am not trying to be a teasing prick, I assure you. It just...flows better that way, if that makes any sense? Although from this chapter, you'll already get a pretty clear picture of what went through Derwen's head ~ 
> 
> Now go on, I know you're eager :3

“ I’m sorry,” Tivon said again, the sand of the Silverwastes permeating the remaining warmth of the day, the stars brimming in the sky. He felt their powers stroke through him, an easy ebb and flow that lulled him into a calm.

“ It’s a desert alright,” Gwynethia grumbled, following him almost blindly, “Not the one I was looking for, mind you.”

Tivon turned toward her, begging her with his eyes, “I know. I’m sorry. I promise I will help you, but I must go to Tarir.”

She folded her arms. “Why?”

Under the scrutiny of her cat-like eyes that gleamed in the dark, Tivon felt like he was being watched by a predator. Intimidated. Yet, the celestial powers eased him, and his Wyld Hunt rang along with it in his mind, bringing new-found certainty. “It is my Wyld Hunt,” he reiterated, but her face turned into a displeased scowl.

“ Tivon, I can do with a bit  _ more  _ than that.”

He stopped and mulled it over for a moment. Something told him he could trust her with this, even if the knowledge of Glint’s Scion was relatively new and fresh, and no less world-changing. “I don’t…” He sighed, hand scratching the back of his neck where his hair had begun to grow out, branches angling further away from his head, “I am not sure I can entrust a Nightmare Courtier with this.”

Impatience made her eyes flash like flames and she stepped closer, lifting her chin in a challenging manner. “Do you want to know why I joined the Court? Why  _ Derwen  _ did?” Tivon felt like he’d been punched, the air knocked out of him completely. “We didn’t wake to bring evil, and we did not grow up to become it. We joined to  _ escape  _ it.”

  
  


“ Be patient,” the Warden tried to soothe, “Trahearne is on his way.”

Derwen stalked off, his pattern flaring in annoyance. “ _ Be patient, _ ” he mimicked in a condescending lilt, “ _ Be strong, be brave, do this, do that- _ ”

“ Derwen,” Gwynethia interrupted him, “It has only been a day. Orr is far from the Grove, and we have no choice  _ but  _ to wait. I am sure Trahearne will come with the utmost haste.”

“ Not if  _ they  _ told him of my Dream,” Derwen scoffed, but he did relent and stopped his pacing, instead glaring over at the Wardens that guarded the firstborn Caithe’s home. “They have done nothing but belittle and mock me since I have told them, as if I were a child shivering from nothing but a nightmare.”

“ To them, we  _ are  _ nothing but children.”

“ And who are they to put that mark on us? Who are they to be the judge of our characters and experiences?”

She placed her hand atop his shoulder, hoping it would soothe some of his anger. Almost magically it did, relieving some of the pent-up tension in Derwen’s shoulders, and his form sagged slightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “By these outbursts, I do nothing but prove them right.”

But that couldn’t be right. Were they to be infinitely patient and and bow their heads in reverie and respect whenever this came to pass? “Come on,” she gently tugged at his arm, not daring to voice her doubts, “The teacher showed me this interesting trick I’d like to let you in on.”

He gave her a weak smile and nodded, following her down the green, trudged path.

  
  


“ What?” Derwen asked disbelievingly, and the Warden only tilted her head, the fern-woven helmet looking like a cage.

“ Trahearne arrived hours ago. He is with Caithe in the Dreamer’s Terrace.”

“ Why wasn’t I told?” Derwen burst out.

The Warden’s eyes hardened. “It is the Firstborn’s choice, and Trahearne has been gone long from home. I can only assume he is basking in the Pale Tree’s presence, trying to douse the lingering, frightful feeling the lands of Orr instills in all of us.”

“ But I said-” Derwen began, and the Warden interjected almost instantly,

“ The Firstborn will have his reasons, and your focus must be patience.”

Without deigning to answer Derwen turned and left, his steps carrying him directly toward the winding stone path surrounded by ponds filled with crystalline clear water, the chatter of the passing sylvari deaf on his ears. Gwynethia had trouble following his brisk pace, and she had no time to protest when Derwen all but marched into the Dreamer’s Terrace. The rustle of the door was soft and quiet, and somewhere in the back Derwen could hear voices in avid conversation. He recognized Caithe’s voice instantly, the other that of a male he didn’t know, but that only meant that it was indeed Trahearne, and that no one had told him of his coming.

Even though  _ he  _ had been the one to ask the firstborn to be here.

Caithe’s head and ears perked up at the sound of his footsteps, and she regarded him with the same old superiority he felt wafting off of her. “Sapling, what are you doing here?” She demanded, and Trahearne turned his head curiously toward him, yellow eyes gandering his form with with a guarded expression.

“ Why wasn’t I told?” Derwen pressed without even answering Caithe’s question, the fact that she addressed him like a newborn making his bark itch.

“ It is presumptuous of you to think we did not plan to,” Caithe said, voice sharp, but Derwen didn’t flinch. “It is for you to be patient and abide to our decision, Sapling. A lesson you seem to not have learned very well yet.”

“ Perhaps the fault for that is yours, not mine,” Derwen hissed, and to his surprise Trahearne stepped forward and in between them, lifting his hands in a pacifying manner.

“ Please. What seems to be the problem?” He asked, and Derwen spoke up before Caithe could take the initiative.

“ I asked them to send for you,” Derwen stepped closer, and he recognized every detail of Trahearne’s features, and found especial fondness for Trahearne’s intent gaze which studied him with focus. A focus no other sylvari so far had felt necessary.

“ You?” Trahearne sounded surprised, and it was then that Derwen was proven right; that nobody had deigned to tell Trahearne he had woken with a Dream of Trahearne’s capture and torture, the notion to save the firstborn a strong compelling force he couldn’t shake. That Trahearne was in grave danger, and that Derwen was here to prevent it. Derwen bit his lip and shook his head with a bitter expression. He’d wanted to believe it was just his imagination, that it had to be some kind of misunderstanding, but this…it proved him right. Him and his feelings, the feeling deep down in his gut.

Trahearne stepped even closer, holding out a hand to him, and Derwen glanced at it briefly before lifting his eyes with a frown.

“ I am Trahearne, as you most likely already know. You are…?”

His voice was genuinely curious and gentle, and for the first time, Derwen did not feel ridiculed. He reached out and took Trahearne’s hand in greeting. “I am Derwen.” When Trahearne’s eye flicked to the figure behind him he added, “And this is my sister, Gwynethia. We woke together.”

Trahearne smiled at that. “A rare bond; I hope you know the extent of your fortune.” The hold released and Trahearne tilted his head, “Why is it that you sent for me?”

“ I dreamed of you,” Derwen began, for the first time feeling like someone was actually listening, “I saw you being captured by a festering darkness. You were tortured and…I feel it is my Wyld Hunt to save you from it.”

“ So you have come to me preemptively,” Trahearne concluded and Derwen nodded. “Thank you.”

The words surprised Derwen and he must have looked positively startled, because Trahearne chuckled at his expression. “You have come here with a gift from the Dream to tell me of my fate, and you are here to prevent it.” Trahearne explained, “’Thank you’ seems almost a term too light.”

“ Some Dreams are nothing but,” Caithe argued, finally stepping in. “We cannot be certain what the Sapling saw is true, and we cannot be sure his very actions are not the cause of it. What if by bringing you here, he’s already invited the events to come to pass?”

“ That may be the case,” Trahearne answered, “but Derwen has no ill intentions, and I feel prepared knowing. I will be more careful on my way back to Orr.”

“ You are returning?” Derwen jumped in, sounding disbelieving, “But you are-”

“ -in danger. Constantly.” Trahearne finished for him with a smile. “I can not let fear of that eventuality stop me, Derwen. My Wyld Hunt is to cleanse Orr of its corruption, and in all the years I have studied the land, I’ve made minuscule progress. That is where I must be.”

“ Then let me come with you,” Derwen blurted out, and Caithe’s hitch of breath was only a hint of her annoyance. “Let me come with you to Orr.”

To Derwen’s surprise, Trahearne looked thoughtful as if he was considering it, and in the depths of the yellow eyes Derwen could see an argument was had in Trahearne’s head. When Trahearne closed his eyes, Derwen knew the answer, and it struck him how  _ well  _ he could read the firstborn, despite knowing him for only a couple of minutes. “I’m sorry,” Trahearne murmured and shook his head, “Orr is a dangerous land. You are not yet trained and too inexperienced. I cannot take you with me.”

“ How do I prove myself?” Derwen stood his ground and lifted his chin, challenging Trahearne, “How do I prove that I  _ am  _ strong enough?”

Trahearne’s contemplative expression remained, the eyes piercing through his own. Seconds of agonizing silence followed as Trahearne weighed the question in his mind, until Trahearne seemed to come to a conclusion. “Come with me,” he beckoned Derwen to follow him to a table in a hollowed out room, an old, weather-worn backpack resting atop. Trahearne rummaged through its contents for a moment until he pulled forward a box and held it out for Derwen to take.

Derwen reached out and made a surprised noise when an electric charge stung his fingers, and he gave Trahearne a questioning glance. His pattern flared slightly when he noticed Trahearne was smiling. “It is enchanted,” Trahearne explained calmly, still holding the boy aloft, “My reaction was very similar to yours when I picked it up, but it is nothing but an initial deterrent. The real mystery is its contents.” Finally Derwen took it, noticing that indeed, the electric shock did not come a second time. “I have been unable to open it. My guess is that it was sealed by an Orrian Mesmer not long ago, and that it can be opened only by one as equally powerful, if not more.”

_ He knew I was a Mesmer from the beginning,  _ Derwen thought dizzily. “Then…” Derwen weighed the box in his hand, “If I open this for you, you will let me travel with you?”

Trahearne smiled. “I will arrange for you to have all the knowledge that you require at your disposal. The Priory has knowledge you will find useful, and Thith and Murielle will watch over your progress.”

Derwen held Trahearne’s gaze, decision made steadfast and final. “I’ll open it,” Derwen announced, “I won’t allow my Dream to come to pass.”

  
  


“ But…” Tivon looked confused, “It did. Mordremoth captured Trahearne.”

Gwynethia rolled her eyes, “Do you believe Derwen knew that eighteen years ago? Back then our two worries revolved around the Nightmare Court and Zhaitan’s minions spreading. He thought it would be Nightmare Court that would capture Trahearne and torture him.”

“ Is that why he joined them?” Tivon asked, “To be in the middle of it and break Trahearne out?”

“ Not entirely,” Gwynethia admitted, “His reasons to join the Nightmare Court were based on the constant pressure of  _ perfection  _ forced upon us by the bond of the Dream. The constant whines for patience, reverie, modesty, and virtue. To fit in and not jump out of line. We were both too stubborn-minded to fit in. The Dream began to suffocate us, as did the expectations of our brothers and sisters.” She was quiet for a moment and added bitterly, “And when he found out about the Bifrost being in their possession, it all came to snap into place.”

“ The Bifrost? What did he need the Bifrost for?”

“ Have you heard of the expression ‘Show your true colours’? The staff is more than a magical piece of wood that shimmers beautifully. It reveals one's true nature and desires.” Gwynethia sighed dejectedly, “Derwen had begun to doubt himself. The Dream. His relationship with Trahearne.”

“ What?” Tivon stared at her as if she were a ghost. “His…He and Trahearne-?”

“ Yes.” Her voice was firm as she gauged his reaction, “Derwen and Trahearne were together, for a time.”

Tivon felt as if the ground opened up beneath his feet, even though he knew he had no right to feel that way. Of course Derwen had had different partners across his lifetime, Tivon had known as much, but to think he’d been together with the firstborn Trahearne…”How? I mean…why?”

“ Obviously I was not there when it happened,” Gwynethia rolled her eyes, “But…”

  
  


Derwen was frustrated. Over the years he’d tried everything he could think of, yet nothing seemed to bring the box’s enchantment to even budge. “When is he coming?” Gwynethia asked nonchalantly over the hefty tome in her hands, tilting her head to the side, the spotted leaves atop her head shifting at the movement.

“ I can’t  _ present  _ this,” Derwen said exasperated and rose from his woven stool, pacing up and down the room, “This is the third time he’s coming back and I still haven’t come any further with this  _ stupid  _ box.”

Gwynethia knew it was useless trying to pick up anything from the page she’d been trying to read through Derwen’s fidgeting and groaning and finally set the tome down with a dusty thud. “I’m not sure why you are so fixated,” she lifted herself from her chair, “Surely your worth cannot be defined by what is confined in a piece of wood.”

“ Yes, but-”

“ Am I interrupting?” a familiar voice said kindly, and they both looked over toward the entrance of the room where Trahearne stood, his backpack slung relaxed over one shoulder, his yellow eyes mustering them. He was smiling and Gwynethia was the one to answer, “No, not at all firstborn. Please.” She gestured toward her now vacant chair, offering Trahearne a place to sit, “I’ve been stuck in here all day reading through ‘The Subtle Mesmeric Arts’ and find myself in need of a walk.”

Trahearne chuckled at that, giving her a nod. “Very well. What about you, Derwen? Do you need to stretch your legs?”

“ No,” Derwen said, annoyance showing in his tone that was directed at nobody else but himself, “No, I’m fine.”

Gwynethia gave Trahearne a knowing smile and left the two in the room. As soon as her steps were out of hearing range, Trahearne sat down opposite to Derwen and glanced over the many books and parchments scattered all over the table, various candles having been replaced time and time again, blobs of wax-stains around the copper candle holder. “Stuck?” Trahearne asked kindly, and Derwen brought a hand through the whitedark ferns atop his head, slumping back down in his chair.

“ I’ve tried  _ everything _ ,” Derwen said with a hint of desperation, “I’ve spoken with the members of the Priory, have travelled even as far as the Shiverpeaks and Ascalon to find counsel with the Norn and Charr, and even the human historians who are supposed experts on Orr seem to have no inkling of what this enchantment could be. It’s…frustrating, to say the least.” There was a small pause, “But I have managed to unravel the mystery around the other artifacts you sent me.” He shifted in his chair, reaching far across the desk and with a movement of his arm shoved a pile of neatly cleaned and studied artifacts in between them. He lifted the rusted handle of a dagger. “This seems to be part of a ceremonial dagger used during the honouring of the dead. Additionally it was used to make offerings to the Gods. The handle indicates for which deity the offerings were. This,” he points to mark embedded in the handle, “Is clearly a sigil of air, meaning it was meant to make offering to the human goddess of air and life, Dwayna. I assume only daggers with the sigil of undead was used for ceremonies involving the dead, presumably enabling them an easier passage into the presence of the Judge who decides which path a soul will wander.”

Trahearne reached out and Derwen dropped the handle in Trahearne’s hand, watching as Trahearne lifted it and inspected it in the candlelight. There was luminescent flowers on the wall, but their lights had dimmed into a faint blue, announcing the night. “Fascinating,” Trahearne murmured, “I’ve found many relics that are involved in the burial ceremonies. I’ve found evidence of burial and cremation both, which leads me to believe that it must be a connection to status. If I remember correctly, I found this near a tomb of a high-ranking human who had been buried instead of cremated.”

“ They most likely wanted to appease the wealthy and mighty, even in death.” Derwen shrugged his shoulders, “There’s more. Here.”

He continued speaking about each artifact, and Trahearne listened with rapt attention, bringing his chair around and scooting closer to get a better look. Derwen relished these moments of discussion and closeness, having found that Trahearne seemed to be the only one  _ not  _ interested in making him feel unworthy and inferior to everyone else simply because he was younger. He was already four now, having accumulated a great amount if knowledge simply thanks to the liberties Trahearne’s name enabled.

While Trahearne studied the artifact in his hand with that same contemplative frown Derwen saw ever so often on the firstborn’s features, he began sheepishly, “Trahearne, there was something…I wanted to ask.”

Trahearne lifted his eyes to meet his own. “Of course.”

“ If I never manage to open this box…” His eyes trailed to the object in question, “Does that mean you’ll never take me along?”

“ Derwen-”

“ Opening this box doesn’t prove anything,” Derwen argued, “It could be it can only be opened by the one who enchanted it; I’ve read those kinds of spells exists, and they’re cast by powerful spellcasters and the sole chance of hoping to ever catch a glimpse inside would be to wait until the magic falters.” He met Trahearne’s eyes with a quiet desperation, the fear of failure on inadequacy surfacing, “That doesn’t mean I’m not ready. If anything anyone can tell you that I have excelled in everything, that even Muriell and Thith have admitted to being unable to teach me any more. I’ve reached an impasse and I don’t know if-”

“ Derwen,” Trahearne interrupted with a bland but strict voice, “Derwen, the reason I gave you this task was not merely to test you. I had…selfish reasons.”

At that Derwen frowned. “Selfish reasons?” He echoed, and Trahearne nodded and with a sigh resigned himself.

“ When I dreamed I saw my Wyld Hunt. Felt the ethereal push to cleanse the land of Orr from Zhaitan’s corruption, to allow life and regrowth to return. And there, standing amongst the ashen sands and the fertile soil was a tree growing strongly. It reached high above my head, it’s shadow a respite for the sun’s glare, a small speck of beauty amongst the great ruins of Arah. It-” Trahearne hesitated and Derwen inched closer, urging him to continue without a word needing to be said. Trahearne’s pattern seemed to flare alive like smouldering embers, and if Derwen were to describe the expression Trahearne’s features, it was flustered. “It was beautiful, unique. The stem split into thick, powerful branches, and those in turn split again and again until thinning out and forming small, flowery buds. It…it’s branches split into black and white.”

For a moment that didn’t strike Derwen as too odd, until he noticed the meaningful stare Trahearne gave him. His own bark was dark, the streaks of white flowing in between the striations of his bark. His eyes were dark pupils surrounded by a ring of white, and the tips of his hair and some stems of the leaves thrummed with a pulsating white. “You think-” Derwen felt his throat turn dry, “You think that’s me.”

Trahearne held his gaze and nodded. “When I say selfish, it is because I wanted to get to know you, and to not endanger you.”

_ Keep me in the safety of the Grove. _

Derwen had flirted with many sylvari in his life-time; during his travels there had been many flings and short-term crushes, solitary scholars and wandering merchants. Even the odd adventurer or two had succumbed to his charms, yet here, being faced with a deep confession quite so directly, even Derwen didn’t know what to do or think. Trahearne was the one who had regarded him with respect, who had treated him as an equal. It was…new.

Derwen’s eyes lowered to Trahearne’s lips and up again, wondering if this was what it meant. To think that Trahearne had dreamed of him, even just metaphorically, was enough to make his head spin. He sat a bit straighter, intent bleeding into his eyes. There was only a moment of doubt; a moment in which Trahearne held his gaze, uncertainty written all over his features, and then the firstborn too lowered his eyes to Derwen’s lips, washing all doubt away.

There was little room for thought. Little room to ponder where this would lead, and if it was the right thing to do. Strings of turmoil sang their desires, and Derwen easily gave in, leaning forward to bridge the distance between them, and Trahearne’s lips opened and trembled softly as if he meant to speak, but no words came in between them. Derwen halted and waited, waiting for the moment of indecision to pass on Trahearne’s features, and then Trahearne breathed against his lips and met him halfway, stealing his breath away in a careful and chaste kiss.

  
  


“ I don’t understand,” Tivon shook his head, “If he and Trahearne were together, why would he join the Nightmare Court? Trahearne must have tried to stop him.”

“ Derwen was plagued by doubts. You see, it might be all clear to you now, but Derwen knew nothing about his future. His Dream of ‘saving’ Trahearne turned into a vivid nightmare when the Dream gradually revealed the truth to him: that he would have to kill Trahearne in order to save him. What do you think  _ that  _ did to him?”

Tivon remained quiet and averted his eyes.

“ Derwen left the Grove and the Dream in order to  _ escape  _ it. He did not want to fulfill his destiny, and he refused to let it come to pass.” Gwynethia scoffed, “His Dream was a mockery. In his search for answers he turned to the Nightmare Court. He knew he and Trahearne were not meant to last. He never felt the love for Trahearne as the firstborn did for him.”

Tivon closed his eyes, trying to imagine how torn Derwen must have been.

“ Trahearne didn’t try to stop him,” Gwynethia sounded bitter. “Not even a little.”

  
  


Derwen sat in the silence of the room, staring at the parchment in his hand. Trahearne sent him letters on a regular basis, letters he cherished deeply, and he tried to find an answer in between the lines for his misery. At first he thought it to be a mistake. Nothing but a nightmare he had confused for a vision. But with the last few days the vision had returned time and time again, showing him the full extent of what was to be his destiny.

Thorned brambles and vines, a seed encasing Trahearne’s lower body. Shadowy figures stood surrounding him, and Derwen stepped closer, a powerful, sparkling and gleaming staff clutched in his hand, and in his other he held a once adored sylvari weapon, a thorn that was now nothing but a broken blade. A voice called out for him. His name. Yet the plea remained unanswered, and he sunk the thorn into Trahearne’s chest. An explosion of darkness enveloped him, and he felt the stinging in his chest, finding it harder to breathe. His body fell to the ground, the landing dampened by a body, and a figure came into view, the distinct features of a sylvari visible between the blurs of darkness.

He hid his face in his hands, trying to make sense of it.

“ Derwen,” Trahearne’s voice came, and the firstborn sounded worried, “Are you alright?”

Derwen lifted his weary head and looked over toward him. “I’m…” His voice faltered and Trahearne came closer, noticing Derwen’s distress instantly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring this up. Not until I was certain.”

Trahearne sat down beside him, his sole presence soothing the tremors of Derwen’s hands. Trahearne didn’t push and waited patiently for Derwen to continue.

“ My Dream…I know now what my role is. I know-” He choked on his own breath and shook his head, the sting as he bit the inside of his cheek riding under his skin, “I saw you encased in a vine prison, and it is not I who saves you.” Derwen felt the sting in his eyes and clenched his hands into fists. “I’m meant to… _ kill  _ you.” At that he finally looks up, wants to see the surprise and disgust in Trahearne’s features, but there is only surprise and the worry. “I can’t- I can’t do that, Trahearne. I won’t.”

“ Are you certain?” Trahearne asked gently, and when he raised a hand to place it reassuringly atop Derwen’s shoulder, Derwen darted to his feet, desperate energy leaving him reeling.

“ Yes,” Derwen said, “and that means…I can’t stay.”

“ Where will you go?” Trahearne made to rise to his feet, but Derwen gestured for him to stay where he was.

“ I met a Courtier,” Derwen revealed, “I will go with him and join the Nightmare Court.”

“ That roads lead to a path with no return,” Trahearne implored.

“ That is exactly what I am hoping for.” Derwen walked toward the door and hesitated at the entrance for only a moment, “I’ll fight this destiny that has been forced upon me. I won’t allow fate to shackle me. I will be free of the constant expectation to be nothing short of perfect, and I won’t allow this to come to pass.” Their eyes met and lingered, held, one moment of silence and longing bleeding into the next until Derwen finally broke away. “Goodbye, Trahearne.”

Derwen disappeared, the rustle of his leaves disappearing in the distance and Trahearne could do nothing but stare at the entrance where Derwen had stood not moments before, not knowing what to do. Feeling stranded and lost out in the open, wide sea.

 

“ So, you see,  _ Tivon _ ,” Gwynethia hissed, “the Dream did nothing but play with us - our visions, our hopes, our  _ own  _ dreams. We escaped the scrutiny of the Dreamers who whispered behind our backs, gossiped about our imperfections, our  _ own family. _ The constant struggle to appease the general, high status of morale and manners, it all fell away when we turned to Nightmare. Nightmare accepted us wholly, whether we were driven by emotion or had a heart of cold stone. The Nightmare is freedom of expression, it promotes your individuality and your liberty. If someone steals from you, you do not have to engage them in polite talk, ask gently for the item back. You can  _ take it back. _ ” She paused, gandering Tivon once again. “But you know already how unfair the Dream can be. Its expectations. You’ve felt it yourself.”

Tivon nodded, “You said…it played with you, too.”

Her eyes hardened, squinting at him. “My dream is none of your business. What I will tell you is that if you help me, I might finally come closer to understanding it. So, I’ll ask once again, what are we doing here, and why?”

Tivon relaxed. Whatever Gwynethia’s ambition was, it was entirely her own. One might say she was acting egotistically, looking only after her own needs, but considering that she was here with him with barely a complaint, that was not entirely true. He’d misjudged her, put a preformed stereotype onto her even though he should have known better. “I am charged with protecting Glint’s second scion,” Tivon told her, “and…I know it may sounds strange, but I know something is happening. I need to go to Tarir and make sure the egg is safe.”

“ Tarir,” Gwynethia echoed, and finally they were both moving again, having stood still in the dead of night in the middle of the Silverwastes, “I have never heard of a city by that name.”

“ It is an old city. The Exalted, protectors of Glint’s legacy, live there.”

“ If it lies beyond the Silverwastes, is that not right in Mordremoth’s reach?”

“ The Exalted fought Mordremoth,” Tivon explained as they trudged through the sand, the Bifrost the only illumination. “And now they look after the egg since I-” He didn’t finish that sentence. Didn’t want to let the feeling of self-reprimand and guilt get a hold. “Come on,” Tivon said and his pace quickened, “If we want to reach the city by the next day, we have a lot of ground to cover.”

Gwynethia studied Tivon’s frame and followed his brisk pace without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since my wonderful and absolutely lovely editor and friend Lamshire mentioned it while she edited this for me, I'll address it here:  
> Gwynethia says that she wasn't there, yet you guys get a _pretty_ detailed description of what happened - that is merely the courtesy of me (the writer) to you, since I want you to know exactly what Trahearne said and what he meant - Gwynethia, on the other hand, would know no more other than the fact that Trahearne dreamt of Derwen, and that they are now together. So please bear with that inconsistency, I assure you it's all for you  <3
> 
> Also, for some reason, the formatting decided to put a space in between every " And the beginning of a sentence. Please bear with that too, because I'm lazy and would rather spent my time on more writing *_* 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Seruna out! :3


	75. Confessor's Stronghold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Look at the time, it's post-a-chapter-o'clock!  
> OK, that one was bad, I admit it.  
> Uh, not much to say, haha. Let's see what kind of trouble Sgileas is getting into and what his emotional world is doing, shall we?  
> Enjoy!

When Sgileas finally reached the platform of the dilapidated Colosseum, it became clear that he was the last to arrive, and in between the Shining Blade agents he spotted familiar faces. 

Rytlock. Majory.

And of course, Canach. 

Sgileas stowed his glider, making his way over to the group with sauntering steps, letting his purple eyes gander over his comrades for a brief moment, but they were all unharmed. “Not caught in the blast, then.”

“My, Commander, you sound almost disappointed.” Canach threw him a teeth-baring, flashing smile that was illuminated by a red lightning crackling just by the side, ”We almost were but then…not.”

“Your troops?” 

“Some are still looking for you, and the rest are forming a perimeter around this place.”

“Looking for me?” Sgileas scowled. “Your mission is to apprehend the minister.”

Jory opened her mouth, but Canach spoke before she could, stepping closer toward where Sgileas had made himself tall. “Indeed,” Canach conceded, “I really only need you there to corroborate events, should they go south.”

Sgileas clicked with his tongue, “Dare imagine what kind of conundrum you would have found yourself in if the blast had not reversed itself. Does Countess Anise not trust her own agents?” The Shining Blade agents around them twitched at that, but Sgileas paid it no mind. This would certainly explain why Canach asked for help with the minister in the first place. “No matter.” Sgileas made and effort to make it sound final and brushed past Canach toward the door, “I’ve investigated the ground zero of the blast, and I found evidence of White Mantle tinkering with the Bloodstone prior to its explosion. It’s reversion can be explained by only one possibility: Someone-”

“-absorbed the energy.” Canach finished for him, following him with a frown wrinkling the space between his brows. “Do you think-”

“That Caudecus absorbed it?” Sgileas asked with a snort, reading Canach’s mind. “Don’t be absurd. No normal human could absorb such power. We must assume Caudecus has made a new, powerful friend.”

“A friend?” Jory asked from behind, and he could see her jumping from the corner of his eyes when a stray bloodstone began vibrating and thrumming in his presence, resonating to his magic. When he felts its tether connecting with his skin it was an electric tingle, and he scowled, countering the magic with a gesture that looked almost dismissive. The bloodstone cracked and stopped glowing, becoming dormant and useless. 

“The White Mantle used to worship the Mursaat,” Canach brought in, slowly bringing to the canvas of Sgileas’ thoughts. 

“Are they not extinct?”

“Believed to be,” Canach answered, meeting his eyes with an unreadable expression.

An ancient race of powerful spellcasters known for their cruelty. What if the White Mantle had hidden the remainders of the Mursaat here, in Bloodstone Fen, and had been working on getting their masters back to power? 

“Then we’ll make sure they are once we are through with them.” Sgileas decided curtly, and he barely caught a glimpse of Canach’s smile. 

Despite Sgileas’ confidence, he found the anxiety festering under his skin, swiveling and creeping into the forefront of his mind. A voice that echoed through his mind, reminding him that his psychological state was battered and broken still, and that his body was coping no better. The time in the Maguuma jungle had taken its toil on him, and the aches of his injuries prevailed despite his best attempts and efforts to ignore them. Not to mention that he could not remember the last time he ate. 

He’d vowed to himself he’d not lead himself down the path of self-destruction again, but with Trahearne’s image rattling through his mind day and night, he could find no rest. At night he would wake shaking and trembling, his throat constricted and tight while he fought back the shivers and chokes and battled the tears. At day he fought off the memory and guilt, biting hard into his cheek until bitter sap filled his mouth.

Sgileas had not noticed he’d climbed the stairs in a state of trance, too deep in thought to notice they had reached the very top. It was only Canach’s arm that extended in front of him that brought him back to reality, and he immediately glared at the secondborn, feeling the familiar rouse of agitation. 

“I was given specific orders on how this was supposed to be executed,” Canach cautioned him, and Sgileas lowered onto the last step on the stair, now looking up at Canach. 

“I am sure you are eager to oblige to do exactly as you were told, Canach.” Sgileas drawled, and Canach gave a theatrical sigh. 

“Another mention of my leash, how quaint. I’m afraid you are running out of material, Commander.”

“With your insufferable arrogance, you give me plenty to work with.”

Canach’s mouth twitched, “You would be surprised how-”

“The door.” Rytlock said, sounding exasperated. “Please, just get the door.”

Canach gestured for Sgileas to press forward, “Care to take the door, Commander?”

Sgileas moved forward, leaned back a bit and kicked forward, the door swinging open with a loud rattle when they slammed into the wall. Canach chuckled, “Like a true gentleman,” and then brushed past, rushing toward the center of the Colosseum. Their abrupt entrance had caused the White Mantle to stop in their tracks, gazing upon the intruders with a surprised expression. “Minister Caudecus! You have obviously been taken prisoner by these White Mantle zealots. I am here to rescue you and return you to the Royal Palace.”

It was at this moment that Sgileas was not sure if Anise was silently laughing into her fist at this display, knowing Canach would do exactly as she had said. The secondborn was desperate for his freedom after all, but this kind of display seemed redundant as well as ludicrous. 

“Let’s drop the charade, shall we, you ignorant leaf!” Caudecus bellowed from the rampart, having stepped closer to peer down at them with a wrathful glint in his eyes. “I will not return to Divinity’s Reach until I have the crown!”

“So I’m clear, you’re admitting you are associated with the White Mantle?”

Sgileas gave Canach an are-you-serious look, but this too seemed to be part of Anise’s ploy. 

“Are you quite touched?” hollered the Minister, “I’m their supreme leader! And they will carry me all the way to the throne of Kryta!”

Canach’s placid smile never wavered when he turned to Sgileas, “Commander, did you witness that?”

Sgileas wanted to get this over with. “I did.” 

Canach turned back to the fuming Minister, “Then by the providence granted to me by Countess Anise, I hereby press sentence on you, Caudecus Beetlestone. Today is your last day on Tyria. Allow my blade to bid you farewell!”

The draw of Canach’s sword elicited a chain reaction around them, the White Mantle readying their weapons in concurrent motion. “Get them!” Caudecus ordered and pointed his finger toward a pile of purple rocks, “and turn this thing on!”

Their groups scattered, the White Mantle that were on the same floor as them unfortunate enough to be confronted with their strength head-on. Sgileas summoned his shroud, fazing forward and turning swiftly, sending necrotic energy and shards of ice into those White Mantle closest to him. The ground at his feet rumbled and the purple stones around him began to tremble and rise from the ground into the air, assembling into a estranged from Sgileas had not seen before. It took a moment to complete, but when it was done, Sgileas felt the magic erupt from it at if a thousand bloodstone shards simultaneously rattled his defenses. 

The creature floated, the surface of its flesh covered in a purple crystal, the air crackling from bloodstone and volatile magic. “How do you like my latest find, Commander?” Caudecus crackled from above as the creature turned to face him, and Sgileas tensed, readying himself for its attack, “It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but nothing a few bloodstones couldn’t mend.” 

“It’s a Jade armour!” Someone cried - He thought it was Majory - when there was a pain cracking through his skull as if it had been split open. There was only white, searing pain riding through the fibers of his body and he convulsed, his scream nearly deafened by the awareness of agony gripping his body tightly. It shook him to the core as if something tore him apart inside, piece by piece, and it lifted as abruptly as it came, leaving him panting on the ground, trembling like a leaf in the shiver of a winter breeze. 

He gulped and tried to regain control of his limbs, but they felt numb with the twinge of needle-like pain, unresponsive to his commands, nausea making it difficult for him to lift his head, and when he tried anyway the room around him spun and turned, causing him to stagger on all fours and falling over onto his side. 

“Commander!”

His sight was blurry and he saw a figure rushing toward him, recognizing the distinctive features of Canach through his bleary vision. Canach skittered closer on his knees, discarding his sword at the side, still in reach, but Sgileas couldn’t help but think idiot when Canach gripped his shoulders, frowning down at him with urgency and concern. 

“Commander, are you alright?” Canach said, but his voice was so far away it might as well have been from behind a wall of glass, and it took Sgileas two seconds to piece the information together. 

“I’m fine,” Sgileas answered brusquely, forcing himself to sit up and push to his knees and feet, “I’m-”

His legs gave out under him, too weak and wobbling, and Canach caught him with a surprised grunt, one arm slinging around his back, the other draped over his shoulder, a hand gripping the back of his neck tightly and pulling him into Canach’s body, trapping him there. 

When Sgileas tried to move his whole body refused. There was not even a twitch, not a single movement, and when Canach too didn’t move Sgileas was about to shove and tell him to let go - when he saw the flicker of the pink glamour field trapping them in an immobilizing spell. 

He couldn’t see anything of what was happening, not with his face pressed into Canach chest, and he could barely hear the words spoken in the distance. He wanted to move, to defend himself, but he couldn’t - and to be extradited to these outside forces made the anxiety billow into fear, when suddenly he noticed that Canach’s body all but shielded him from both attack and sight, and suddenly, he felt even worse. 

When had he become so weak to need some else’s protection? 

He tried to summon strength and as he breathed in, he noticed with a jolt that along with the lingering volatile magic in the air, the scent of flame and scorching flesh, there was the smell of freshly cut grass. 

And then the spell broke, and they both struggled to keep their balance. Canach’s hold on him tightened for a moment until Sgileas found his footing, and he lost no time to shove Canach’s arms off, stepping away. Before he could utter a single, hissed word a booming voice cut through, bringing all their attention to the new arrival. 

Sgileas felt his sap grow cold.

“You are a heretic, Caudecus! And you shall lead no White Mantle, for I am their GOD!” 

A mursaat. 

“What?” Caudecus stumbled backwards from the creature, “It can’t be!”

“I am the last mursaat. Many years ago, you knew me as Lazarus the Dire. I have returned from the brink of existence!”

“No!” cried Caudecus, “You are a false god! The White Mantle is mine! Don’t listen to him!”

“Empty words formed by the forked tongue of a snake,” Lazarus said in a condescending tone, “The human seat of power and their current monarch are inconsequential. We are destined to face more virtuous pursuits.” With that the Mursaat opened its arms wide, “My true believers, you’re welcome to seek shelter in my light. For those who doubt…you’re welcome to burn.”

“Canach!” Majory cried over the ensuing chaos, fire raining down from the sky, smiting down the White Mantle where they stood, “Go now!” She pointed forward toward Caudecus, the ground giving a resisting rumble until it broke open, revealing a ribcage of bones that formed a make-shift stair toward the distracted minister. 

Canach waisted not time. He rushed forward, bending down to collect his sword from the ground and he rushed forward, and he climbed upward and leapt into the air, his sword ready to strike. Caudecus cried something, the woman beside him made a movement with her hand, and then Caudecus disappeared into thin air along with the woman, leaving Canach’s blade to swish without hitting anything. 

In the whole rush the Mursaat had disappeared, not even having attempted to attack them, and Sgileas curled his hands into fists. 

He’d been useless. 

Entirely and utterly useless.

Canach cursed. “Bah! Mesmers. Sorry Majory, no offense to Kas.”

Jory laughed in good spirits, and Sgileas followed her and Rytlock up the bone stairs, “Helpful if they’re on your side, annoying if they’re not. I understand.”

“He’s gone,” Canach grumbled, and at some point Sgileas would have made a comment about how that was definitely due to Canach’s lacking speed, but he couldn’t bring the words out, not with self-reprimand so fresh in his mind. 

“Doesn’t look like there’s any sign of Lazarus either,” Jory murmured, her eyes gandering the sky, “A mursaat alive…we should immediately warn the queen, but he appeared disinterested in Kryta.”

“Surprisingly different from the last time the Mursaat were sticking their creepy bird feet where they didn’t belong,” Rytlock pointed out. 

“Conspicuous, yes. We need to find out what Lazarus’ plans are.” 

“Caudecus will want to hunt him too,” Canach added, “He won’t readily surrender control of the White Mantle. One will inevitably lead us to the other.”

“Commander, can you read me?” 

Sgileas was glaring at the ground at his feet until he realized he’d been too occupied to notice Taimi was addressing him, and his jaw set tight. When he lifted his gaze he noticed that the group looked at him with worry and that-

That was the last thing he needed.

“Commander?” Taimi tried again and Sgileas snapped,

“What?”

Taimi was quiet for only a moment before she continued sheepishly, “I have some news…Something possibly…slightly…marginally…cataclysmic.” When Sgileas didn’t press further she continued, “I finally managed to get detailed readings from the ley-line map and determined…well. Primordus is active.”

Sgileas closed his eyes, trying to smother his anger. How was that even possible? How could another dragon wake so soon? Would they all wake, one by one, until they were overwhelmed? Was there no end? 

“Commander?” Canach stepped closer, “Are you-”

Sgileas’ shroud snapped forward, hissing through the air. “Fine,” he snarled, “I do not need you babysitting me, Canach.” His voice was ice, sharp and hurtful, and Canach looked genuinely startled by the outburst before his eyes hardened, becoming pins of obsidian.

“Then stop acting like one.” Canach shot back, and that only riled Sgileas to continue.

“I have bigger problems to deal with than nursing a rampant minister. Anise should be glad we did the work for her. Now that we have descried Caudecus’ allegiance she can begin her man-hunt of which I will be no part of.”

Canach composed himself, a silent fury in his eyes. “Your responsibility is the dragon,” Canach said in a forced calm that made Sgileas fume inside, “Mine, however, is spoken for.”

“Toil around in human politics all you like,” Sgileas turned on his heel, “While I deal with this world-ending crisis.”

He didn’t wait for Jory and Rytlock to join up, didn’t wait for a reply. As he stepped through the Colosseum out onto the steps he leaned against the wall, taking in a shaking breath. Emotions swirled out of control through him, hatred, anger, wrath, and atop it all, the voice nagging him that he was pushing and pushing and pushing without regard for anyone or anything around him. He sunk down and bit into the back of his hand, the pain forcing itself to the forefront of his mind, grounding him in the here and now. Not allowing him to get lost in the chasm of his turbulent mind that would undoubtedly pull him down further and further until he hit rock bottom. 

Saving the world would lose its meaning if he lost those who made the world worth saving along the way. 

The bite dug deep, sap coating the back of his hand and slipping over his lips. It tasted bitter and hardy, and Sgileas relished the pain for as long as it lasted, finding that it brought a kind of calm and connection to his body he couldn’t achieve with his mind alone. A form of regaining control. 

When he stood again nobody could have told that he’d been shaking moments before. He rose like a split image of his former self, the turmoil of his mind concealed behind a stoic mask, and his steps echoed through the vibrant air, allowing no room for doubt.

Except the one he carried inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll most likely have to put up some warnings because I have a feeling Sgileas will drop into some deep, dark places in order to keep lying to himself. Just so you're not surprised when he suddenly arrives with a bottle of nectar. 
> 
> Small bit of clarification: That attack that incapacitated Sgileas is the Agony Attack, in case that isn't clear. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the Canach and Sgileas moment! You probably know by now where this is all going anyway, haha. See you next round!


	76. Dragon Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Sorry for not updating last week. It's hard to sit myself down to write; the writing itself is easy enough. Just that initial momentum is somewhat missing. Sorry about that. But the story must go on, so here you go! :D

Tivon was greeted by Ruka at the gates of Tarir, the whole of Maguuma jungle passing by in almost a blur. Gwynethia had mentioned her aversion for both the vegetation and the climate to a great extent ever since they passed through the Silverwastes, but Tivon’s mind was piqued and focused only on the call that was compelling him to see the hatchling. He’d seen a vision of her, jumping around him in juvenile and joyful leaps, staring up at him with beautiful, round, crystalline blue eyes. It was no longer merely his Wyld Hunt calling out to him - it was her, impatient and longing to meet her champion, and Tivon felt the very same eagerness grip him like a tight, warm blanket, steeling his resolve.

“Ruka!” Tivon called from the distance, jumping from the thicket surrounding the large area in front of the massive golden, overgrown gates. Behind him Gwynethia came wheezing, trying desperately to catch her breath. A soft curse formed on her lips as she stepped closer, her eyes regarding the Exalted with tense curiosity. 

“Egg-bearer,” the Exalted greeted with elation, “We tried to get word to you. I tried to contact your friends to see if they could locate you, too.”

“The egg called to me,” Tivon explained curtly, not wanting to tell the Exalted he’d lost touch with the others ever since he had departed from the Grove. “Where is she?”

“She?” Ruka sounded confused for a mere moment before realization dawned on his golden mask, “Oh, you mean your comrade? She is waiting down by the chamber.”

It was Tivon’s turn to be confused. He’d seen the egg hatching, yes, but Ruka would never call the dragon a ‘comrade’, so… “Who is?”

“It’s me,” a familiar voice answered, and Tivon recognized Caithe as she ascended the stairs, her white hair swaying slightly. 

“Caithe,” Gwynethia had a cat-like smile on her lips and sauntered closer, “and here I thought we had seen the last of each other.”

Caithe did not seem impressed. “I had hoped so,” Caithe answered evenly, her eyes locking with Tivon’s, “I felt a similar tug. My Wyld Hunt brought me here.”

He knew Caithe had no ill intentions, and the fact that her own Wyld Hunt lead her here gave him certainty that she would allow no harm to come to the egg. It was an odd thing, to share a very similar Wyld Hunt with a Firstborn, especially her. He only nodded, a small sign of consent, and then Ruka lead them all down into the heart of Tarir toward the chamber. The torches burned brightly, casting dancing shadows on the ground, the golden elevated platform glittering alluringly. 

With a wide gesture of his arm, Ruka encouraged him. “You may enter, egg-bearer.”

When Caithe made a motion to follow him, Tivon shook his head in dismay. “I’m sorry, Caithe. I’m afraid you will have to wait here.”

“It is fine.” Caithe’s steps stopped and her eyes flicked sharply toward Gwynethia. “I’ll keep an eye on this one.”

“Oh no,” Gwynethia drawled with a crooked smile, “I’m not under your supervision, haven’t been since I left the Grove for good. Faolain simply makes the better case, I’m afraid.”

“She’s dead.” Caithe dead-panned, but Tivon could see the emotion in her eyes, a struck that went deeper than she wanted to allow. 

“Oh I know,” Gwynethia’s smile was cruel, “How else would I ever move up in the world?”

For a moment Tivon feared Caithe would pull her daggers on Gwynethia and he stepped in between them, raising his hands in a pacifying manner. “Please, not here,” he implored them, and the women held their loathing gazes for a moment longer before Gwynethia lifted her chin and met his evergreen eyes with determination.

“I’m coming with you. I’m not staying behind with her.”

“You can’t,” Ruka answered blandly, “The chamber is attuned to the egg-bearer alone. No one else may enter.”

“That is…” Tivon paused and gulped, “That is not entirely true. Derwen managed to bypass it somehow. If you still have it-”

“Of course.” Gwynethia’s voice was firm, almost as if she was insulted by the mere question. 

“…Then perhaps it will recognize him.”

The small token he took from Derwen, the petal encased in his amber-hardened sap. 

“What happens to me if it doesn’t?” She looked up challengingly at Ruka.

“A small shock, and the portal will repel you.”

“Nothing of the exterminating kind then,” Gwynethia sang, giving Tivon a broad smile, “You would think the Exalted cherished their little scion’s safety.”

“They do,” Tivon answered, his voice firm, “and if you enter with me, so will you, or the Pale Tree help me I will slay you where you stand.” 

“No need to get all serious and fatalistic now,” Gwynethia rolled her eyes, clearly not the least bit intimidated, “I am not here to jeopardize your precious baby dragon’s life. We have a deal, remember? I need you, and you need me.”

Tivon held her gaze for a moment longer before he nodded. “Follow me.”

The egg chamber was just as grandiose as the last time Tivon had been here, and as he took the last steps up toward its middle, the egg was still hovering where Tivon had left it, it’s crystalline glow sparkling and almost blinding. He could feel the pull to be closer and closed the distance, his hands hovering over the egg’s frame. Space seemed to distort blearily around it, blurring in and out of focus, and he smiled faintly when he felt the warmth pulse and permeate the air like a heartbeat. 

“This…” Gwynethia stepped closer, but not quite daring too close. Perhaps his warning had intimidated her after all. “...is your Wyld Hunt?”

“To protect her,” Tivon answered in a reverential hush, “Teach her virtue and vice. Shield her from harm. To be her champion.”

Gwynethia snorted derisively, pulling him from his awed state. “Don’t get me wrong, Tivon, but you don’t strike me as the champion type.” He saw her eyes gandering over his form in an aloof manner, “Would a dragon not chose someone powerful to protect them? I’ve heard of Dragon champions before, and none of them were like…this.” She gestured generally over his frame and he chuckled good-heartedly, slowly averting his eyes.

“Perhaps you just don’t know me very well yet.”

“Are you telling me you are hiding an arsenal of powerful spells and abilities under all that emotional, naive demeanour?” 

“Looks can be deceiving,” he answered placidly and with a final note that left her to whisper her reply.

“So it would seem.”

Tivon’s hands formed around the egg, its light illuminating his skin in a bright glow. The pulses grew warmer and more frequent, as if it noticed his presence, and he could feel a playful curiosity and eagerness to meet the world from within.

To meet him. 

He himself felt the apprehension and joy at the coming encounter, and just as the thought came through his mind the emitting glow from the egg began to spread out. His eyes widened, taking in the wonder happening before his very eyes.

She is hatching, he thought dizzily, the light beginning to glow so profusely he needed to squint his eyes, but he would not turn away. He needed to see this. Needed to see her. Needed her to see him. 

The light cast away all the shadows of the chamber and Gwynethia lifted her arm to shield herself from the expansion of blinding light. The sounds of crystals crackling and cracking was the only noise that broke through the awed silence, fractures appearing over the eggs exterior surface and an explosion of white made him blind for a bare moment until he blinked - and found a baby dragon staring up at him with a searching and yearning gaze, as if she was gauging his reaction. 

The eyes were of a deep, clear blue that captured Tivon’s heart and soul the moment their eyes connected. 

“Aurene,” he whispered and she tilted her head with a questioning chirp. He stepped even closer and lifted his hand tentatively to touch the top of her head with a gentle, cherishing pat. Her spiked tail swayed eagerly from side to side at the touch and she lifted her head into the cup of his hand, squeezing her eyes in appreciation and contentment.

Her skin felt leathery and warm underneath his palm, and her azure blue skin was covered in small crystal spikes that adorned her flanks and back. When she blinked up at him and opened her mouth in a toothy grin, Tivon smiled back fondly. 

Staring into her eyes, all the pain and suffering, all the questions and pleas left unanswered fell away. Everything else, his worry for his friends and companions, his strive to search for answers regarding Derwen…it all seemed so inconceivably unimportant now. This…This was what his life was about. To protect her. Shield her. 

And By the Pale Tree, he would.

She chirped at him lovingly, feeling his devotion and certainty, and he smiled more broadly, scratching underneath her chin. “Hello Aurene,” he greeted her as she lifted her chin like a cat, “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

She only chirped in answer and shuffled with her front feet in alternating strokes.

Like a cat indeed, Tivon thought merrily, but not a second after the brightness of the moment was dampened. There was a soft rumble, almost impalpable, but Tivon’s senses were amped up and sharp, his head turning instantly toward the side searching for what was causing it. Aurene noticed his distress, he could feel her feeling his apprehension, and he straightened and angled away just slightly, watching as a shadow began to befall the chamber.

A breathless moment Tivon waited, his hand grasping the Bifrost in an instinctive reaction, and then an abrupt rumble shook the golden winged-pillars surrounding them. He whirled around on the spot when a flash of golden light appeared beside him and halted his weapon mid-swing, the Bifrost’s trail almost blazing in the dim.

The Luminate looked down at him and his weapon, but he could find no indignation in her stance. If anything, she looked like she approved when she gave a slow nod. “I am no enemy, egg-bearer. I have come because the chamber’s barrier is down.” The Luminate informed him, urgency in every syllable. “Something’s wrong.”

“What happened?” Tivon demanded, the churning becoming louder, the trembling around them turning into a quake. 

“The chamber is designed to re-attune to the newborn’s unique signature, but this technology is centuries old. Something must have malfunctioned-” The Luminate set eyes on Gwynethia and halted in her tracks, putting one and one together. Tivon understood as well; that neither Gwynethia nor Derwen were ever supposed to be here, and that the bypass of the security now had this unforeseeable consequence. “- I need to focus on the chambers defenses! Keep the attackers at bay!”

Attackers. The churning. Burrowing. 

Destroyers. 

Tivon lifted his hand and formed a gilded corona around Aurene that shielded her away from harm. Gwynethia took a few cautious steps back toward the center, her eyes set out toward the outer ring of the platform. Small, earthen burrows appeared, Destroyers scrambling hastily from the burrows, hissing and clicking ominously as they charged headlessly for the hatchling.

“Keep them at bay!” Tivon ordered Gwynethia, but she was already moving, gripping something invisible from her waist that wove into its visible form at her touch, revealing a small, one-handed axe with a curved, purple blade. She disappeared from the corner of his eye and he cast the vines to form another barrier between himself, Aurene and the destroyers that ranked upward into the air, but as the Destroyers began to climb it became clear that summoning more vines would result only in them being surrounded by blazing, smouldering flame trap in a matter of minutes.

He resorted to the staff alone, the Bifrost slamming into the side of a destroyer crab that had breached through, sending it careening back with a cracked body. Swing after swing he managed to hold the Destroyers at bay, crushing one with a downward swing and flattening it against the ground, the Bifrost glinting when he struck true.

Aurene was growling from behind the barrier and he could feel that very same transcended pulse of warmth alongside his limbs he had felt when he had picked up the egg, and his next swing made a swooshing sound, the reflection of a crystal wing enforcing his strike, blasting the destroyers away with a gust of wind. The destroyers tumbled over themselves, slowly pushing back onto their claw-like feet. 

Tivon felt the enforced, crystalline wings on his back spread, ready to blast the destroyers from the platform entirely and into the water beyond when a surge of flames flared before his eyes, the destroyer succumbing to a blaze of fire that burned with unimaginable heat, even from such a distance away. He watched in surprise as the usually fire-resistant Destroyers scrambled and burnt alive, and Tivon turned around to see a massive floating figure by the side on the outer ring which he didn’t recognize. 

“Who are you?” Tivon asked, quickly taking his place in between the newly arrived creature and Aurene, ready to tap into the buzzing powers of Aurene’s dragon magic and the Celestial Avatar that was brimming inside his fibers. It was odd, to feel quite such a strong reaction of aversion and hostility for any single thing, but it was instinctual, primal when he gazed upon the creature, goosebumps rippling over his skin.

“I’m the last mursaat, Lazarus.” The creature introduced itself, making another dismissive gesture toward another wave of Destroyers which immediately crumbled under the searing flames. Flames. Flames. 

Destroyers are immune to fire magic. 

“I do not come with ill intentions.”

Tivon’s eyes hardened, the star’s powers thrumming through his core, ready to be unleashed. The sudden deluge of boundless power felt exhilarating and frightening at the same time, but this was not a bearer of normal elemental magic. No, it was something more powerful. Something powerful enough to sear through an Elder Dragon’s shielding. “I do not know you,” Tivon apprised the creature, “and you would do well not to test me.”

The Mursaat lifted his hands in a pacifying manner, “I only wish to help-” 

“Leave.” Tivon demanded and the Celestial Avatar began to glaze over his skin in a surge of midnight-blue. A ring of white, dazzling light expanded towards the sides, shoving and pushing away the destroyers and sending them careening into the waters surrounding the platform with a distant splash. Tivon’s skin was an open window into the universe and the Bifrost pulsated strongly in his hand, resonating with the tremendous surge of power. The Mursaat staggered back when the blast of white light hit it, bringing it off balance and shoving it a generous distance. The Mursaat regained its balance at the ledge only barely, catching its bearings in a confused and starstruck manner.

Tivon lifted his arm, an orb resembling the form of a small galaxy swiveling in his palm. “Leave.”

The Mursaat gandered him for a terse, silent moment and then lifted its chin, “This is not the last you will see of me, Champion.”

The Mursaat disappeared in the same fashion it had appeared, a puff of smoke remaining as the only reminded it had ever been there. With a movement of his arm Tivon sent the orb into the recovered swarm of destroyers, the orb impacting with the ground and remaining stuck there, turning and gyrating faster and faster, pulling in all the destroyers surrounding it like a magnet. The destroyers fought against the influence for a moment, resisting the pull and dragging their large claws along the golden floor, only to be pulled in and slammed together, forcing them to mold tighter and tighter, their bodies beginning to crunch under the powerful gravity. Their masses melted together into a great distorted bulb of destroyer remains, the sickening cracking and fracturing resounding through the chamber. The mass condensed tighter and grew smaller until it disappeared with a swishing noise into the orb, the orb dissipating into a glitter of white streams. 

Tivon breathed easier and released the Celestial Avatar, the energy dispersing and leaving him feeling faintly fatigued. Aurene chirped happily behind him, and Tivon watched as the large golden barrier around the egg chamber came to life, which announced the Luminate had succeeded in establishing the shield. “The shield is functioning properly now, egg-bearer,” the Luminate sounded pleased, “I think it was wise to refuse the Mursaat.”

“Do you know them?” Tivon asked and stowed the Bifrost onto his back, the gilded corona around Aurene dissolving into thin air. Aurene leapt from the platform almost instantly and he opened his arms and caught her against his chest, huffing at her weight. With a chuckle he knelt onto the ground and settled her down. Baby-dragon or not, she was too heavy for him to carry around. 

The Luminate watched as Aurene began to jump around Tivon, who was hard-pressed to keep attention to her as she spoke, “The Forgotten passed on tales of these creatures. They are an ancient race of cruel and deceiving spellcasters who were the god-entities of the human White Mantle. I never thought to encounter one…”

“Why did it show up here? What did it want?” Tivon asked, his head turning as Aurene circled him in joyful heaps.

“I can not say, egg-bearer,” the Luminate answered with concern, her eyes following the eager to and fro of Aurene’s tail and form “The return of a Mursaat is not a good omen.”

“Then it is for the best the Mursaat stay away.” Tivon asserted thoughtfully, “Will the shield hold?”

“It will.” The Luminate assured him and then sounded concerned, “Does that mean you will not be staying?”

“I…” Tivon hesitated for a moment, but the Luminate should know what it was that shackled him. “I…promised to help Gwynethia find the Mirage’s Veil. I’m afraid I can not stay. I have to stay true to my word.”

“The Mirage’s Veil?” The Exalted asked for confirmation and Tivon nodded. The Luminate turned toward Gwynethia who looked displeased that Tivon had divulged her secret and folded her arms in front of her chest. “Why do you require this item?”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Gwynethia stated firmly.

“If it ensures that the Champion remains true to his word and remains here to train with the Scion, then I can assure you that it does.” The Luminate said in both a bland and similar firm tone. “The item you seek was hidden and guarded by the Forgotten long ago. If you wish to retrieve it, I know where you can find it.”

Gwynethia did not hesitate, her amber eyes flashing. “I need to have it.” 

“If I tell you where to find it, will you release the Champion from his promise?”

She mulled it over for a moment. “I might require his help to attain it. The Forgotten are not known for relinquishing anything for free.”

“You will not. The item is kept in the city of Kesho in the Crystal Desert, the birthplace of Glint’s first scion.”

Tivon looked up at that. “Another dragon?”

The Luminate nodded, “His name is Vlast. He is…temperamental.” The Luminate fixated Gwynethia with her gaze. “What is your answer?”

Gwynethia looked apprehensive and tense, and for a few breath-halting moments Tivon thought she might refuse, but then, slowly, she relaxed and nodded. “Very well.” Gwynethia lifted her chin, “If you give me what I seek, I will release Tivon from his promise.”

“Then we have an agreement.”

“For now.” Gwynethia agreed reluctantly, and Tivon wondered why her eyes almost seemed to burn when she looked at him. “That means I should hold my end of the bargain.”

Questions. Answers.

Derwen. 

He rose to his feet with a nervous air around him. “Ah. Yes. Right.”

She snorted. “The dragon has you already twisted around her little claw, doesn’t she? You look like a lovesick puppy.” Before he could answer she lifted her hand, “Don’t bother. We won’t be long.”

“…Alright,” he followed her and heard the patter of Aurene’s paws on the ground and felt her brushing against his calves. Gwynethia sat down by the golden stairs and waited for Tivon to do the same. Once he settled down Aurene squeezed in between, chirping lively and joyfully, and Tivon petted her with a smile. “So,” he began, “What will you be telling me?”

“Nothing,” she said and made a face at Aurene as if she had bitten on something bitter. “There is not much more to say about his life before the Nightmare. We joined the Nightmare Court, and to prove ourselves we were tasked to lure in a group of unknowing sylvari. Derwen had no qualms, not when it meant he himself could finally advance. His power, manipulation and persuasion skills made him a most feared and revered member of the Court, and when Twilight Arbour was raided, the Court’s numbers diminished, and opportunity favoured us. Derwen snatched the position of Count of Thorns, and was charged with protecting a most powerful weapon the Court had laid their hands on.” Her eyes fixed on the Bifrost. “He told me of his plan, but he implored me to feign ignorance and stay. And then he stole it and left, never to return.”

“That’s how we met,” Tivon remembered. It felt like an eternity ago. “He…had transformed into a sylvari hound to escape, and I patched him up, oblivious that it was a transformation.”

Gwynethia chuckled lightly, and the sound of that was so odd Tivon had to look up again. “He always was a trickster.” Her eyes seemed distant and lost, and for a moment she was silent, lost in a box of her own memories. The small smile on her lips faded when she asked, “His death…was it fast?”

The question struck him more than he licked to admit, like a ice-cold splinter wedged deeply into his chest. He remembers Derwen’s expression vividly, the Mesmer’s face showing how torn he had felt inside, and yet having made the resolute, final decision to do what apparently had been his curse - 

And was supposed to be a blessing to the world.

Aurene beside him made a questioning noise and Tivon bit the inside of his lip, petting the baby-dragon’s back. Slowly he shook his head. “No…it wasn’t.” 

Sap flowing from the gashing open wound, rasps of breath coming pained and fast, a hand curling tightly around his wrist. A sharp shake of Derwen’s head, and his lips trembling to from words Tivon never heard. 

“I…never heard his last words.”

Gwynethia straightened with a sigh. “You can.” At that Tivon blinked the tears threatening to overwhelm his eyes away. 

“What do you mean?” He croaked out, not recognizing his voice. 

Gwynethia grasped onto his back, her dark, lithe fingers curling around the Bifrost’s shaft, and Tivon allowed her to pull it from the confines, pulling it forward. She placed it atop his lap and gestured toward it with her chin. “The Bifrost has all the answers you seek now. All you need to do…is ask.”

Tivon stared at the weapon for a thoughtful, painful moment. He felt afraid, pained, and for a cowardly moment he wanted nothing more than to turn away, the emotion reeling too high for him to stand against the turmoil when Aurene nudged his arm, encouraging him with just the light in her eyes. “But what if I..:” He asked her and even though she was born bare moments ago, empathy, sympathy and love bled from her in warm, gushing waves, encumbering him and bathing him in fuzzy warmth. He gave a watery chuckle and the tears rolled over his cheeks when he closed his eyes. “Of course. You’re right. I can’t run from this.” He took a deep breath and focused on the lull of Aurene’s presence, the thrum of the Bifrost in his hand and gently and gradually the sound around him faded. Sense of time ceased. He fell into meditation, letting the Bifrost evoke memories upon his empty mind. 

There was nothing for a long, long time. 

And then…the sound of rushing water. Gently stroking sandy shores, gushing against his calves. Seagulls circling distant in the sky, sunlight basking his back in warmth. He opened his eyes and squinted into the sunlight, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. He recognized the high-ranking Labyrinthine Cliffs lifting high into the air, and a cool, refreshing wind brushed over the leaves covering his skin. 

A figure sat perched on a rock in the surf, and the figure looked up at him, whitedark eyes meeting his own.

Tivon forgot how to breathe.

“It’s been a while,” Derwen smiled crookedly and tilted his head, “Don’t look so startled, Tivon. There is much we need to talk about.”


	77. Old Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. This chapter took something out of me. Not only because it took me a while to write, but because everytime I began writing on it, I began to feel down, so I am glad that is done, for now, although Sgileas' struggles will continue on for a bit longer.   
> I hope you guys will forgive me for not posting last week. Enjoy!

It was a cold, starless night in Divinity’s Reach. The streets were nigh empty, people having ensconced into their cozy, comfortable and warm homes for shelter and retreat from the night. Lights brimmed in the windows, curtains only allowing view of a shadow passing by ever so briefly. Humans were peculiar in that way, sheltered and hidden from the elements around them, whereas Sgileas…

He was left with no choice. No choice but to face not only the harshness of the biting and chilling wind that seemed to cut along his cheek, no choice but to walk stiffly over the paved, empty streets toward his destination: The asura gates, to head from Divinity’s Reach to Rata Sum, and from there into Taimi’s lab, and from there…

To the Fire Islands.

To gather a sample for the noisy little asura scientist to prove that Primordus’ and Mordremoth’s signature energies were indeed merging and molding into one, creating an entirely new and exacerbated threat.

The weather, or the time of day or night, at this point, seemed superfluous in comparison to the shadows growing on the horizon.

Sgileas stood rooted and hearkened, the noises of the night distant and quiet. There was only ever the flapping of Divinity’s Reach’s banners, the distant bark of a dog, or the quick shuffle of legs from a human eagerly making his way home. It felt…empty.

Lonely.

Sgileas shook his head, forcing himself to move. So long as he moved, he could continue on. Once he stood still, he feared the silence of the moment and the extradition to only himself would make him drown into an ocean of insecurities that waited at the base of those churning cliffs. He could hear the water rushing and churning, distantly, calling him. Waiting.

Eventually. Certainly. Someday.

A figure watched from the shadows, and even though he saw it, he didn’t look. Didn’t need to. The ghost haunting him was with him, always, out of reach and noticeable only from the corner of his eyes. If he looked, it would be gone.

Laughter rattled him from his thoughts, a cold breeze whisking through his hair. His purple eyes trailed up toward a small passage, a narrow set of stairs, an orange light bleeding out onto stone invitingly. A man came stumbling through the entrance and swayed as he walked, laughing merrily with a woman clinging to his elbow, and neither of them payed the dark figure any mind as they passed by. Sgileas watched them disappear into the darkness of the night and then turned his head toward the entrance of the establishment the two had stepped out of.

_ The Dead End. _

He was walking up the steps before he thought much of it, driven by something entirely subconscious and beyond his understanding. The place drew him in, a place in which he’d been once. When Tivon had been at the verge of faltering and falling to Nightmare, back when Scarlet awoke Mordremoth, to tell Tivon’s friends of his fate. And now, at the end of it all, Sgileas returned.

It felt almost symbolic and metaphoric when he stepped in, and the few guests inside turned their heads curiously, but neither exclaimed or gasped - a sign he was neither known nor recognized. The hood drawn over his head helped, no doubt, only the shine of his purple eyes visible beneath it.

He made his way across, ignoring the pairs of eyes that followed him as he sat down at the very far back, as far away from anyone as he could be. The human waitress came almost instantly, a sway of sweet fragrance lingering in the air when she leaned in closer. Sgileas scrunched his nose.

“ What can I get you?”

What, indeed. He despised places such as this. He’d avoided them all his life, yet now, with a warm fire crackling in the chimney behind him and nobody to know him, to  _ judge him _ , with the tantalizing and implacable voice in the depths of his goading, cowardly mind luring him in with promise of oblivion, it felt alarmingly easy to give in.

“ Nectar.” He ordered curtly and the woman nodded and pivoted gracefully, but Sgileas barely paid her any mind. If anything, his mind was uncannily focused. Apprehension rose, settling in his fibres restlessly, the temptation having grasped him fully. A temptation he’d entertained in mind alone, yet never in body.

The temptation to drown. Submerge. Forget.

She came back in less than a heart-beat. Faster than he could argue with himself.

“ Here you go,” she smiled sweetly as she poured him a cup of the liquid, and Sgileas gripped for the entire flask, making her hand twitch. Her fingers eased around it, understanding he meant to have as much as he desired,  _ alone _ , and turned away once again. The woman disappeared from the corner of his eyes and Sgileas brought the cup to his lips, a reticent part of his protesting in silent clamour, but he was dipping his head back, swallowing it down in one gulp.

Sweet, a slight burn trailing down his throat. Down into his stomach, spreading into a sizzling, tingling spread of sparks.

For a moment it felt good. Warm. Just a gentle tingling down in his stomach. His head felt light, body cherishing the new experience of freedom associated with the drink.

For just a moment he forgot. Forgot the figure watching him.

He could see glimpses of Trahearne from the corner of his eyes, could see him in the shadows of the streets. Could see that look of despondency and melancholy in the firstborn’s eyes. Judging, suffering, mourning. Was it his subconscious manifesting itself into a figure he would listen to? Perhaps he would, if only it spoke. But the figure remained silent and still. Only watching. Waiting. Mustering him with an endless sadness he couldn’t endure.

Sgileas closed his eyes and bit his lip. His hand holding the cup began to shake and he settled it down with a defeated  _ tuck _ .

“ Don’t look at me like that.” Sgileas said through gritted teeth, and when he opened his eyes he stared  _ right at  _ Trahearne, seeing the emotion so very clear in those yellow eyes it cut into him soul-deep. “You don’t get to look at me that way. You’re not here.” Sgileas turned his head away and shut his eyes tightly, keeping the tears at bay that threatened to spill forth at his hushed, bitter words. “Not anymore.”

But the figure stayed. Stared. Watched. And waited. Forever reticent and stiff.

Sgileas downed another drink, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Another and another and another until the bottle sounded empty when he set it down. It left a pleasing burn in his throat and he finally glared down at his hand which held the bottle so very tightly it rattled with each subtle shake. From the corner of his eyes, Trahearne watched, and Sgileas waited. A minute. Two. Three.

He kept his eyes trained on his hand until the sight before him began to swim. The edges shifted, everything blurring in and out of focus, and finally, among the wooden panels, the tables and the chairs, Sgileas couldn’t see Trahearne anymore. He felt a warm buzz going through his body, vibrating and tingling like soft sparks across his skin, and he sighed in relief.

He was gone. Gone now.

For a while, at least.

Sgileas sat there, basking a little in the warmth of the fire, letting the heaving lull fall over his mind. For minutes he clung to a semblance of clarity and control until it felt like trapping air in his hands, and there was no turning back, no running from the warm flood of dizziness and drowsiness that made him feel as if he were carrying a Dolyak’s load of supplies. 

He swayed even in his chair and leaned onto his arms for support, gazing blearily at the cup and the bottle in front of him that swam before his very eyes. The hushed conversation held by the humans seemed to drown out into a background noise, and when the flicker of the flame began to glitter all-too brightly he closed his eyes and relished the small moment of respite from his overwhelmed senses. 

His head dragged down, neck dipping under the weight, and he let his forehead slump down against his forearms, his skin feeling as if a hot blanket had been strung over his skin. His mind was blissfully empty, neither doubt nor guilt plaguing him, and after an exhale that sounded much like a sigh of relief his mind slipped easily into slumber. 

 

Sgileas woke with a dull ache that he articulated through a low groan, the stretch of his back as he straightened giving an odd popping sound. He frowned down at his hands, a throbbing headache making him feel as if an axe had split his skull, and he massaged his temples with his fingers in small, circling motions in hope of alleviating the pain, only to find it had very little effect. 

He felt  _ horrible _ . His body felt sore, headache drumming so harshly he couldn’t contain another groan, and he blinked through his bleary eyes at the dazzling brightness around him. There was no telling exactly for how long he had passed out, but the daylight streaming in through the window was indication enough that it had been for  _ too  _ long. 

Thankfully, nobody had disturbed him, or even woken him. He was in no mood to speak to anyone. The guests seemed to have left, and a different man stood behind the bar, scrubbing glasses with an old, worn piece of cloth, not even glancing over at him as he made his first attempt to rise from his chair. 

It was successful, in a way. He didn’t slump down instantly, but his hands slapped down onto the table with a rattle that shook the empty bottle and made it fall over, and it took him a moment to regain his bearing, the headache increasing in intensity the taller he made himself. 

It was impossible for him to fathom why anyone would do this to themselves repeatedly. 

He stood there, hunched over and leaning more on his arms than not, and when he finally reeled in enough strength he rose completely and forced himself to keep his eyes open, because the dizziness that overwhelmed him when he closed them would otherwise not allow him to stand. 

Thorns, he really didn’t want to be standing. Or walking. Or doing anything else than sleep off this terrible, terrible hangover. His throat was raw and dry as if he had screamed, but surely if he had, someone would have woken him to kick him out of the establishment. 

Therefore, it was only the damned nectar to blame. The Nectar that left him with a thirst for more. But not now. Sgileas had dallied long enough and he groaned as he tried to find enough motivation to make his way to the door, but he halted when he was at the bar and the bartender finally looked up at him from polishing the glass. 

“What can I do for you?” The man asked in a brusque voice, and despite it being normal voice leve, it seemed impossibly loud. 

“A bottle.” Sgileas ordered curtly and the man raised an eyebrow. 

“I need to see some coin, first.”

Nothing easier than that. Sgileas grasped into his pocket and brought out a handful of coins - currency he so rarely ever needed - and let them drop down onto the counter with a deafening  _ clink.  _ The bartender nodded and swept them toward him with his hand, took a bottle from the shelf and put it in front of him. “You might wanna go easy on that. And drink some more water. It’ll help.”

Sgileas didn’t deign to answer. He stuffed the buttle into his backpack and meandered to the door and pulled the hood further over his face, caring nothing for the eyes burning into his back.

He was throwing himself down this path. At least he was committed to it the whole way.

  
  


“ Commander?” Taimi interjected and Sgileas groaned, finding no incentive nor motivation to deal with her right now. The headache had been unbearable, especially in the broad daylight and the loud chatter of the crowd, and he had hoped to find some silence and just pass on into the Fire Islands. To deal with an increasingly annoying, small asuran scientist was the last thing he wanted to do.

Yet he stopped configuring the asura gate and turned away from the console, his eyes fixing on her after a momentary sway.

“ What is it?” He asked pertly.

She stepped beside him and he only reluctantly allowed her to clear the settings and set the coordinates for the gate that would lead them back to the Dragon Research Lab. “There’s something you…have to see.”

Oh, for the-- Really? Did he have to take a look at everything? 

It was too late to protest at this point and so he followed her, chagrined at the delay. Her steps through the gate and toward the console were slow and clumsy, her one leg dragged behind her in an odd limp. She pressed a button and the projection came to life with a buzz, and Sgileas had to blink against the brightness.

“ It’s Tivon.” Taimi began slowly, gauging his reaction with her large eyes. “He’s in Tarir.”

It did not take a master of deduction to know what that meant, despite Sgileas’ brain being somewhat slow on the uptake. The headache wasn’t helping either. “The egg.” He concluded and rubbed his temple. 

“ It hatched.” Taimi nodded and followed the movement of his hand with her eyes, “and Tivon is still in Tarir, looking after the baby dragon.”

Sgileas felt…nothing. He stared at the flickering screen with a stoic expression. Why would he care about this? The Druid had proven he wanted nothing to do with them when he had disappeared after Mordremoth’s death and their return to the Grove. When he had told nobody where he was going, or even why he had left. He had simply gone.

So, no. Sgileas felt nothing for this.

“ So?”

Taimi fidgeted and wrung her fingers nervously. “I thought…you might want to know.”

“ The infant dragon is no concern of mine.” He stated finally. “Is that all?”

She averted her eyes, clearly having anticipated - maybe even  _ hoped  _ \- for a different reaction, and she only shook her head. “No. That’s not all.” She proceeded and pressed another button, rewinding the footage. It was blurry, full of static until finally, she halted. “There.”

Sgileas leaned forward and squinted his eyes, staring at the stand-still picture she had paused the footage at. There were a great many things that made little sense - a great, brimming light that was bright enough to cause a blind spot at the corner of the screen, and the whole area was overrun by Destroyers, a great wall of flame surging up into the air. And then, finally, his eyes fell on the figure, hidden almost behind the large, winged pillar.

“ Lazarus,” Sgileas sputtered, eyes transfixed on the screen, “he was at the egg-chamber?” Taimi only nodded and then played the footage, letting it play out. The dialogue was barely picked up by the live-feed and Sgileas could make out no words, but what happened was stronger than any word of power ever spoken. Tivon was in his Celestial Avatar, pushing and brushing Lazarus from his feet as if the Mursaat where naught but a feather, and then Lazarus disappeared in a burst of flames.

Sgileas straightened and squinted his eyes, eyebrows draw in confusion. “ What did Lazarus want from him?”

“ I replayed the footage a couple of times and managed to amplify the output of sound enough to hear what they discussed. Apparently Lazarus offered to help Tivon, but he refused.”

This was disturbing. Lazarus seeking out Tivon and the infant dragon meant that the Mursaat planned something with either one or the other, but there was too little to go on to know what it was. They would need more information on what Lazarus was doing to get a full picture of what he could possibly be planning. “Keep me informed.” Sgileas finalized and turned away, but Taimi stopped him.

“ Shouldn’t we warn Tivon about Lazarus? He should know who he is up against.”

Sgileas eyes hardened when he looked at her. A flare akin to envy burnt in his chest, and his next words were uttered with a proscriptive note, “He is the one who chose to pursue his own path. If he chooses to be on his own, then so be it.”

“ But he might be in danger if-”

“ Obviously he is perfectly capable of protecting himself and an infant dragon.” Sgileas snapped. “He doesn’t need us. And we do not need him.”

Taimi closed her jaw shut, and he could see that she did not agree, but she was smart enough to be quiet about it. “Then I’ll look over the footage again. See if I can figure out what Lazarus wanted.”

Sgileas nodded tightly, “Do that.” And finally headed through the gate, not noticing the look of defiance Taimi had on her face.

  
  
  


Letter 1. Addressee: Tivon.

 

_ Tivon, _

_ It’s Taimi. You might be wondering how this letter even reached you, but I have more important matters to tell you about. I know that Lazarus was at the egg-chamber. Dragon’s Watch encountered him too, in Bloodstone Fen, where he rallied the White Mantle (A group of human fanatics) to his cause. We do not yet know what that ‘cause’ is, but I am worried about you and the egg, or rather, the baby-dragon. There’s evidence that Lazarus consumed a ton of Bloodstone magic, and he’s a real threat you shouldn’t underestimate. Please be careful. _

—  _ Taimi _

 

Letter 2. Addressee: Braham Eirsson.

 

_ Dear Braham, _

_ The Commander is headed to the Fire Islands to investigate the strange occurrences there, especially the ones revolving around the new kinds of Dragon minions. Apparently, after Mordremoth’s death, the magic of the Elder Dragon mixed with that of Primordus, and we have empowered vine-touched Destroyers on our hands. The matter is still under investigation, but I’m almost one hundred percent sure. _

_ I know how little Lazarus concerns you, but I saw him engage Tivon at the egg-chamber. Don’t worry; Tivon and the baby dragon are fine, but we have no idea what it is that Lazarus is planning - and I’m concerned for Tivon’s safety. The Commander did not share my sentiment, however, and said Tivon is ‘perfectly capable of protecting himself and an infant dragon.’ I did warn him anyway, of course. _

_ I know you are out looking for that magical bow, but do keep an eye out for me for anything unusual? Like, one of Jormag’s minions suddenly spewing fire? If my theory is correct, Jormag’s minions might also be affected by Mordremoth’s death. _

_ Take care out there, _

— _ Taimi _

  
  


The Fire Islands were a most inhospitable place, unkind to anything that was aspiring to live. The air was filled with the scent of sulfur and smoke, thick and almost too heavy to breathe. The heat pervaded the air like a hot mantle, making Sgileas sweat just minutes after he passed through the gate. Cascades of volcanic rock built up into formations both reaching high and low, some raking into the sky, scaling higher than any one would possibly dare to climb. Stepping out toward the descent of the Infernal Cape into the Sulfurous Deep, Sgileas glared out over the pitch-black water, sighing at his misery.

The place was a desolation, and anyone who intended to remain here was either inherently acclimated to the heat, the thick air and the dangers roaming the arms of the islands, or simply and plainly insane.

Streams of smouldering lava had carved trails into the side of the Infernal Cape, sloshing into the sea with a malicious hiss and releasing hot steam into the already humid air.

Sgileas made his way alongside the Infernal Cape, climbing over the formations of rocks with ever-growing annoyance. It made sense, in a way, that Primordus would seek out a place no one would want to follow the Elder Dragon to, but such cunning behaviour made dealing with the Elder Dragons that much more troublesome.

Dragon _ s. _

At some point, there had been one. One Elder Dragon that threatened to bring depredation and destruction. Now, there was not simply one, but two. Two, active at the very same time.

If they dealt with one, would they simply exchange one for another? Was this supposed to end only the one way? Perhaps the world was nothing but cruel, playing with them all, giving them a glimpse of hope, a spark, until they fought and died. Perhaps the battle had been lost the second they picked up their swords to fight the incoming darkness.

From the corner of his eyes there was that same ghost, staring at him.

Haunting him.

“ Go away,” Sgileas grouched and climbed the ladder-like structure of rocks. The figure remained silent and watched, almost in dismay, as Sgileas’ thoughts churned and spiraled into desperation. This wasn’t good.

Each step his breath came harder, more ragged, but he bit through it. There was a race in his chest that picked up in speed, nausea rising, almost making his head spin. Thick, humid air filled his nostrils and he panted heavily, holding himself steady by a wall of rocks.

“ Go. Away.”

The figure remained and Sgileas grit his teeth and pushed on. He could  _ almost  _ hear Trahearne’s voice reprimanding him for being so very stubborn, for being so fatalistic and nihilistic. He could imagine Trahearne right here with him, at his side, and if only it were reality, Sgileas might have felt more at ease, might have relaxed, might even have retained a semblance of hope.

But no.

Trahearne was dead. Gone. The illusion of Trahearne haunted him, trying to reteach him virtues he had lost in his self-absorbed grief. Virtues he could not be bothered with. He’d chosen to rise to step up for the world - had felt encouraged by the thought of Trahearne  _ watching  _ him, but now he only felt watched and judged for being nothing  _ but  _ imperfect, for being weak and powerless as the wheels turned around him, gears grinding down on him while he was stuck in another place, in another time.

He’d begun seeing the firstborn after their encounter with Lazarus. After he’d snapped once again, feeling worthless and restless with his own shortcomings. Perhaps the worst of it all had been that he had been weak enough to require protection.

Protected by  _ Canach. _

He stood still, rigid, panting in heavy, heaving puffs. There was a raging pulse hammering in his too-tight chest, and his throat felt so constricted it was almost impossible to gulp in enough air. Self-resentment swallowed him up, gulped him down in one swoop, and his legs staggered and his hand gripped a small juncture of rock tightly, his grip the only thing keeping him from tumbling to the floor. Instead he slowly sunk down to his knees, arms and legs shaking beyond his control, and he wheezed and felt the tears stinging in his eyes, an endless spiral dragging him down.

Where was his control? He used to know himself, used to know his power, his limits, yet ever since he’d fallen and almost  _ died _ , he’d never been the same. It was as if he was a stranger in his own skin, as if he were a mere passenger instead of the one with the controls in hand, and he was overcome with a sense of deprivation and hopelessness. His body seemed to pull all the strings, and his mind?

Ha, his mind had not been his own for a long time. It had been all over the place, falling back into the dark, endless chasms that beckoned him, and he followed it there eagerly because…

Because that was what he was. The whispers inside him were right. He was frail, weak, powerless. Vulnerable. Inadequate and so very caught up with himself, the weight of the world would break every piece of him.

Because it was so much easier to believe he was hopeless and lost than to find that spark again. To find a reason to live.

There was no telling how long he knelt there on the ground among the soot and ash, shivering like a leaf caught in a chilly autumn breeze. The shivers only slowly died down, leaving his body exhausted and feeling more vulnerable and fragile than he had ever felt, and he managed to turn and slump down, bracing his back against a jagged stone wall.

He was breathing heavily, blinking up against the glare of the sun and trying to catch his breath, and there, amongst the blur of his tears he could see Trahearne’s ghost standing there, looking down at him with such sorrow and sense of loss Sgileas nearly lapsed into another episode of spasms. He closed his eyes just barely and shook his head and breathed through his grit teeth.

_ Illusion. Dream. Ghost. He’s not real. _

There had to be a reason Trahearne’s ghost haunted him. It was more than a wish.

It was regret.

It was guilt.

It was memory and the splinters of reality, and it was one universal and heart-striking truth.

Trahearne was gone and dead, and Sgileas was losing his fight with himself. So much of his conscientious self had been lost that he held on to the last scraps with the desperation of a dying man. Even his Wyld Hunt seemed but a feeble whisper now, the call quiet and drowned among his thoughts. All he yearned for was a release of this heavy mantle of depression and darkness weighing him down, yet the part of him which  _ believed  _ it all to not be futile strained against every thought that would cause his darkness to disperse transiently.

The argument held within him was simple. Any respite gained through the ephemeral suppressants would do nothing but delay the subsequent breakdown that was as foreseeable as it was inevitable. The suppressants being his stubborn stance, feigning ignorance, ignoring feelings and pretenses, as well as his growing, indulgent nature concerning nectar. The worst part? He knew this. He knew running from his problems would bring him no closer to solving them, much less overcoming them, yet he found it hard to care with no aspiration to work toward. With no motivation to keep him going.

He felt like the wheel of a carriage that had broken off and was tumbling down the paved street, destined to hit a bump, falter, and fall, and then to remain still. It was all simply momentum now, nothing more.

Sgileas hand shook when he brought the backpack over his shoulder, rummaging through its contents until he brought a bottle forward. It was a terrible, terrible idea, yet he would rather face a thousand destroyers with an intoxicated mind than face his troubling thoughts sober. He brought the bottle to his lips, gulping its contents eagerly and with reckless abandon.

Then he simply sat there quietly, abandoned by all his senses, watching as the sun sunk on the horizon and the daylight waned.

  
  



End file.
